


Journal of Zylas Doraith, Thief Extraordinaire! (Well okay, maybe thief in training...)

by RecallThePet



Series: Dungeons and Daggers [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: And other misc songs, And some Teddy Hyde and Adam Jensen for flavor, And some with Bastille, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Character Study, Diary/Journal, I have a playlist that's got over 30 songs, I wrote (most) of this listening to Hozier, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Someone Save the Author, copious amounts of bird symbolism, no beta we die like men, warnings may be added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 23,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecallThePet/pseuds/RecallThePet
Summary: My name is Zylas Doraith, and this is my journal.If you have this journal it means I'm probably dead.If that's the case, please move my body from the road it's likely on.(Unless you stole this from me, in which case, how dare you! It's rude to steal from fellow thieves.)
Series: Dungeons and Daggers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670731
Kudos: 6





	1. I can't add a date because I don't even know what year it is.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello reader! This is an exercise for me to get a better understanding of my D&D character Zylas and how he thinks. This journal will run from the end of the first part of this series up to likely the end of my group's campaign. It will fill in his perspective of the events of his backstory and the campaign that I'm currently playing through.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

I’m not sure why I’m doing this. I’m not even a writer but here we are. This is an experiment, I guess? Something to strengthen my hands. I haven’t written in so long it feels strange to hold a quill again but I have to do it. I might make this something of a routine before I go into trance. I still don’t know what day or month or even year it is. I’ve been counting the nights since Ruek… Well… Since we met. I’ll put it like that. But I’m going to try setting this as part of a routine to give myself some semblance of normalcy.

Maybe this can be a marker of my life should I die and someone decides to sift through my belongings. If the above is the case, please place my body off the beaten path so I don’t scare anyone passing by. If the above is not the case, how dare you steal my journal and look through it! Have you no concept of privacy? … I have no idea who I’m writing to. But if someone did manage to steal this out from under my nose, hats, hoods, and horns off to you my fellow thief! … I don’t know why I’m being formal. I don’t know why I’m acting like someone will even read this. Only way that’ll happen is if I’m mugged or dead. Oh well. Either way, I’m gonna stop because my hand is cramping; let’s hope this isn’t my first and last entry.


	2. Entry Two. No Date Because Time Is Imaginary.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zylas has an identity crisis and needs a hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning!!!!! This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence and something resembling suicide idealization? It's hard to explain but I will write a summary in the End Notes in case anyone needs to skip this chapter.
> 
> Please be safe, and without further ado, enjoy!

My name is Zylas Doraith.

I am alive because of a man named Ruek Dawncrest. He saved my life. He broke me out of the prison Veris Khalin died in.

Ruek Dawncrest is the reason I am alive. 

I am the reason Veris Khalin is dead. I attacked the man who looked exactly like me the second I took the job. I wrapped my hands around his neck and tightened my grip as I picked up that spellbook. I watched passively as the awareness faded from his eyes — eyes so much like mine — as I was chained like an animal. I beat my doppelganger bloody as I stepped foot into the courtroom. I cracked his ribs at the guilty verdict. I took his hair in one hand, his chin in the other, and wrenched sideways to stop his rattled breathing as they branded the body that he once inhabited — the body that is now mine — for life.

I mourned my parents’ son as I was thrown into the farthest cell down the hall.

They threw his broken body in with me, trapping me within it.

I became 8576. I became the numbers they chose for me. I was the marks marring my skin. I was the crime that led to the violent death of the boy who only wanted to help his family. 

I became “85.” I became the numbers spoken not with disdain or disgust, but with compassion and care. I became the person I was perceived to be by the man called “13” across the hall.

I became ill.

I became a free man, but not of my own accord. I was “85” until the day I met Ruek Dawncrest, truly, for the first time.

That day I became Zylas Doraith.

I was no longer a ghost in the broken body of a boy who wanted to help feed his family. I am a man who forced himself to stand on wavering legs and walk to a future I couldn’t see.

I will remain that man as long as there is still breath in my rattling lungs and life in my pale eyes.

My name is not Veris Khalin, nor is it 8576, nor is it 85. 

I am Zylas Doraith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Zylas explains that his name used to be Veris Khalin and that he was sent on a job to steal a valuable spellbook, but the mission went awry and he was arrested and thrown into jail.  
> He was identified only as "8576," and later as "85" by Ruek. He then goes on to claim his new identity and disown his old names. He decides to continue living with a new determination.


	3. Entry Three - I've given up on time as a concept at this point.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zylas has a breakdown and needs another hug. And maybe a blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning!!!!!
> 
> Zylas has a mild breakdown and questions his morality for doing some bad things, thinking and feeling worse things about his poor actions in this chapter, so if you're sensitive to this kind of thing I advise you to skip to the End Note for a summary.
> 
> With that said, without further ado, enjoy!

I met a family yesterday. 

They were being held up at knifepoint by some human bastard. The mother looked less like the half-elf she was and more like a walking corpse. The father was even worse off. He was a high-elf but from afar he looked like a reanimated skeleton. Only their child –a daughter, she couldn’t have been more than seven or eight– looked even remotely healthy. I was hidden in the trees by the road when I came across the scene. The girl was wrapped in her mother’s arms while the father stood in front of them, arms outstretched in an attempt to protect the two of them. 

I couldn’t leave them to be murdered. Before I really knew it I was chanting the words to Blur under my breath. One of the perks of having what I assume to be is a former murderer’s cloak is when you pull up the hood you look terrifying. Having six blurred duplicates come marching out of the woods with one Drow standing front and center, being the only one with his hood down is a quick way to make a human crap his pants and run in fear, as I have learned first hand. Lousy robber dropped his knife and ran. I picked it up and made sure the family hadn’t been hurt. The father thanked me profusely for saving them (once they were sure I wasn’t going to turn around and try to take their valuables for myself.)

I ended up staying the night with them per the mother’s request, since it was nearly midnight and I imagine I looked only slightly better than they had. The father –Alexio was his name– stayed on watch with me while his family settled in for the night. He didn’t question why there was blood on the sleeves of my cloak and the edges of a bloody handprint on my face. I’m thankful for that at least. I don’t think I would have been able to hold it together if he had asked whose blood it was. He and I spent most of the night in silence, he was writing something on some seemingly very expensive paper and I was keeping eyes on the treeline we were camped near. I thought he’d fallen asleep, but at about four in the morning I saw him grab my bag.

I’m ashamed to write that his organs were nearly the first test of my new blade. It was poised at his navel before he could draw breath to explain why his hands were in my possessions. I didn’t know I had even moved, it was just like I was sitting on the ground one moment, and then the next I was over him, trapping him between the cold dirt and my colder dagger. I felt his breathing become shallow with fear as the point dug into his stomach. 

I hate to say that I enjoyed the rush of power it gave me. I hate that I loved seeing his pupils contract and his face drop as his eyes darted to my hand that held the blade. Alexio could hardly draw in enough breath for his next words, something about having no money and writing down a spell. I could barely make out the words behind the thrumming in my ears. I jolted back to my body like I had been dumped in ice water when I heard a child’s cry behind me. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I just gathered my things and left in quiet horror of what I had done. I left them nearly all the food I had though. Gods know they need it more than I do. I’ve gone for longer on less, prison guards can attest to that. I still don’t know why my first instinct was to draw my blade. I’m afraid to face the sickeningly good way I felt at seeing his face become pale in the firelight and I can hardly stomach the sweet thrill that went down my spine at seeing the artery in his neck pound. 

I’m sick for feeling these things aren’t I? I’m sick for thinking for these things again and again. I don’t know when I became so violent or why inflicting fear seems so good. I never used to be this way. I used to hate making people afraid of me. I know I would never bring myself to harm any animal, I’ve been subsisting on plants for the last… Week? Week and a half? So I didn’t have to kill an animal. But why is harming a sentient being not the same to me? Was everyone right when they wrote about Drow being made to inflict pain and nothing else? That we only feel joy when we are reveling in causing harm?

I don’t want to be that way. I don’t want to think these sick thoughts, much less act on them. I don’t want to kill anything, sentient or not, but I know I would be considered naïve to think that I could make it in this “kill-or-be-killed” world. Am I going to have to sink to the same lows of the company I once kept? The same company that left me for dead, left me to rot for them in prison?

I don’t even know anymore. My head and hand are aching. I’m going to bed. Goodnight journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zylas explains that he meets a family on the road and scares off someone who tries to attack them. He spends a night with them in which he is slipped a spell by the father. Zylas barely catches this out of the corner of his eye and thinks the man is stealing from him so he attacks the man and feels "some type of way" about holding the man to the ground with a knife. He realizes what he's doing and quickly makes himself scarce. He leaves most of his food with the family as an apology. He then goes on to ponder whether or not he's a bad person for feeling how he felt and then resolves to go to bed because the stress is giving him a headache.
> 
> (Good lord this took me hours to write because I couldn't focus on getting it from my notebook to my Google Doc and I also haven't slept soundly for two days so that's doing WONDERS for my concentration. Send me good vibes and coffee, I'm gonna need it if I wanna write again tomorrow ;-;)  
> (Also I think this is my biggest chapter yet wooowwwww)


	4. Entry Four - I’ve found a town.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's exactly what it says on the tin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing too crazy in this chapter. This took me a while to get out because I haven't had the mental energy to do much of anything lately. Fun times we're living in.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

I managed to get to a town, finally. Nearly a week of walking and essentially becoming a nocturnal creature so I’m not blinded by the sun, and it’s paid off. I do have a problem though, I have no gold to buy anything with. Hopefully word of the prison break hasn’t gotten here yet. That would certainly impede my chances at finding stuff like, you know, food and a place to sleep.

I’ve been camped out in the woods a fair bit away from the farthest settlement—a wheat farm—and I’m either going to try breaking in and finding the owner’s stockpile of gold and then booking it out of here as fast as I can, or I’m going to find the nearest stream and try to make myself presentable so I can possibly try to find a splinter of my old outfit to join up with, as much as I loathe possibly going back to them. I don’t know if they’ll even let me in! They might take one look at my cloak and just slam the door in my face. Or slam a stolen shield in my face and then introduce my organs to an ornate knife. Okay, so writing it out I’m being forced to actually think it through and it might not be a good idea to get involved with anyone. Or go into town at all… 

I could always go back to what I know best. I could ransack as many homes as I can before the sun rises and be a mile out of the farmland before the rising sun shows the residents that they’ve all been had by a nameless thief that they’ll never find.

I’ll decide tomorrow night. The sun is rising so I need to sleep, otherwise I’ll be too tired to think through anything when it finally comes time. 

Goodnight—or should I say good morning?— Journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a kudo! Thank you to the anonymous user who left me that little heart, it really made my day! <3


	5. Entry Five - Raccoons are the bane of my existence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zy lays out his plan after some unexpected things go in his favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings here, I don't think.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

So it’s about two nights after my last entry, and I didn’t make out with all the valuables in the town, who’da thunk that? I did stumble upon a drunk man who had wandered into the woods though. He nearly gave me a heart attack when he stumbled face first into my camp. Thankfully I was returning from searching for some berries (I sadly had no luck in that department) when his face was rudely introduced to the dirt that was my bed for a good few days by gravity. He was out cold by the time I had picked my way around my little clearing and got my hands into his pockets. 

Gods it felt so good to be back in the swing of things! That thrill of knowing your target could wake at any moment, knowing that every movement counts! Oh Journal it was like nothing had changed. I cleared him of everything he had. I’d netted about 15 gp, a house key (I’m probably going to find what little lock that fits to in a little bit!) and a silver necklace. If I had to guess given his accessories, the amount of money he had on him, and the intricacy of the key, I’d say he’s of a pretty high status. It’s odd that someone of his ilk would be in a tiny farming town but I can’t bring myself to care about why he’s out here. Maybe daddy dearest sent him out to inspect the farms or something like that. If so, thank you random daddy dearest! You’ve made a poor thief a very, very happy man! I know I shouldn’t spend it all in one place, but damn if the fancy doesn’t strike me to blow this all on some good food and a good bed for the night.

I was planning to wait it out and steal little bits of their crops. Not enough to really hurt, just enough to keep me going for a week or so with foraging. But this might get me some hard bread and dried meat for the journey and a night in a bed! A real bed! Look Journal, I know it sounds sad for me to be happy about sleeping in a bed and yeah, okay, it is objectively sad, but I haven’t slept in a bed since before I was arrested and I don’t know how long that’s been. A lifetime, it feels like… But this is bringing my thoughts to sad times and I don’t want to be sad right now, I want to be happy! I’m gonna go wash off at the stream I—FINALLY—found and then I’ll wait until the sun rises to see if I can get some semi-decent food and a place with a bed for cheap so I can save as much of this as possible.

I’ve also gotta find out what year it is. That might be important to determine how old I am… Either way, good night/morning Journal!

POSTSCRIPT!  
DO NOT LEAVE YOUR SMALLCLOTHING WHERE IT CAN BE STOLEN BY RACCOONS AND IF YOU DO GOOD GODS MAN PULL ON AT LEAST YOUR CLOAK BEFORE YOU CHASE THE LITTLE BASTARDS THROUGH THE BRUSH!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of doing some Hyperkid-inspired dialogues between yours truly and Zylas before each chapter. Would that be a good idea?


	6. Entry Six - Time is an illusion, just like my sense, apparently.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zylas, again, needs a hug. And a blanket. And maybe some hot cocoa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings here I don't think.
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

Four years. I was in prison for four years.

I lost four years of my life to that Gods-forsaken cell. All over a book!

A single SPELLBOOK!

My birthday passed last month. I’m 23 now.

I know I should be mad. I have every right to be. But I just can’t bring myself to feel much of anything. Dez used to say I would “turn off” when everything got too intense, and I think I understand what she meant by that now.

Mom turned 47 this year. Dad will be 52 in three months. Dez would have been 24 next week. Elias would have been 25. 

I finally know why the guards slashed through the dots engraved in my arm; they were marking off the years I had been there. I was meant to serve six years for taking some pompous mage’s book. Granted it could have had some wild magics that were unfit for anyone’s hands but his specifically, or he just used his status and racism as an excuse to imprison me for far longer than I rightfully should have been. And besides, it was practically begging to be stolen! Held up in some bland room with no wards on the book itself, just wards on the windows and on the door handles and on the breastplates of the guards. I guess he didn’t account for someone skilled in breaking through wards to pop them off the windows and another person that’s well-versed enough in illusionary magic to make it seem like the wards were still glowing, and then just nick the book and run.

Okay that last bit obviously didn’t work in my favor, but the plan was in place. It’s not my fault Elias slammed my head into a rock as a child and now I JUST SO HAPPEN to get horrible flashes of pain at the most INCONVENIENT OF MOMENTS OKAY? 

I need to get out of here. There’s a troupe of performers that’s passing through and I might just join up with them so I have some safety in numbers. They were talking about adding effects or something to performances last night at the tavern and that’s well within my skill set. I just have to keep my cloak stuffed in my bag so they don’t think I’m some crazy murderer (thank whatever Gods may be listening—or watching?—that I left that thing up in my room while I was eating.)

You know I’m desperate when I say I’m praying for something. I’m not a religious man by any means but by the gods I pray that these people are kind enough to be my ticket out of here and to wherever they’re going next or I may never end up leaving this town. They’re looking for a magic man and they might just be able to see that I’m just that guy. 

They’ll be a welcome distraction.

I’m going to bed before I give up entirely and just trance on the floor with this book in my lap.

Good morning Journal, it might be a while before I see you next.


	7. Entry Seven - I’m a circus magician now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing dangerous here!
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

I’ve gotten in with them! This energetic little red tiefling took one look at my illusions and was begging their leaders to let me join! Apparently the one I have to thank for my new… ah.. Job? I guess? Anyway, the one who got me on with this group of crazies is named Vatyr. They also think we should be the best of friends because we both have curly white hair, which isn’t the most convincing reason to befriend someone but I don’t care, they seem nice enough.

The leaders of this group (Penn’s Roaming Dance Company, as I’ve come to learn) are Oriana, the head instructor for those who want to learn more feminine dances, and Vail, who leads the more masculine dancers and seems to also be the one who handles the public relations aspect of all of this. Oriana hasn’t said more than two words to me and I’ve been with this company for about three days. Vail is pretty nice, he makes sure everyone gets enough to eat, enough sleep or general rest.

Vatyr wants me to start being put to work right away and honestly I agree with them. I know avoiding your emotions doesn’t do anything to help you process them. It just stores them away to deal with in a much more intense punch in the gut when you least expect it but that’s a problem for a far future me, not for the me in the near future. The near future me is going to be occupied with learning when to add illusions and practicing on my own, with the musicians, and with the dancers. Sorry future me, current me doesn’t want to deal with anything more complicated than magic and not pissing off the people I’m going to be traveling with for this indeterminate amount of time. Vail is telling everyone to get a move on, so goodnight Journal! I’ll write in you when I next find the time!

Postscript: Vatyr wants me to try dagger throwing on the side as well. I’m not opposed honestly, it could provide a welcome distraction that magic just isn’t doing anymore, since magic is second nature now but with dagger throwing I’ll have to focus on not accidentally impaling any of the performers or staff unfortunate enough to walk near wherever I’m practicing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vatyr here is actually my first D&D character ever! He uses he/they pronouns and tends to dance more with Oriana's group. She's like a mother figure to him and was actually the one who found him and took him into the group after he was left for dead by some bandits. I don't really like the way I took their character when I first made them so they're a little bit more of a cheery airhead in this story. He loves flowy skirts and cloaks and also has an interest in making new friends (even if he gets way too enthusiastic at times.)
> 
> I'm gonna go now before I infodump anymore about them than I already have lol.


	8. Entry Eight - Dreams Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zylas is both my emotional support moron and my punching bag and I'm not sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game! It's called: Why was this chapter written, and how many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?  
> Is the answer:  
> A) Author is projecting their emotions onto this poor elf boy  
> B) Author had a dream about Zylas's past and wanted him to write about it  
> C) Author was inspired to write this because of a sad song and a revelation about Zy's sexuality  
> or D) 5,382.
> 
> Answer: Who knows? Not me, and certainly not Mr. Owl!

Dreams are confusing for Elves, that’s a given. I didn’t think we were supposed to ever dream but here I am, awake at midnight and writing about one. I was with Elias and Desdemona in it. We were in our little nook by the river and it was dark out. Dez was cuddled up to my side and Eli sat opposite us. We were laughing about something? I don’t know, but he looked at us with more seriousness than I ever remember him possessing and told us that we had to be more careful because apparently the crownsguards were on high alert from our last job. Dez tried to laugh it off and said he was the one that needed to be careful, since she and I both had magic to get us out of sticky situations but all he had was his body, wits, and tools of the trade.

And then it changed? Out of nowhere we were all piled onto my bed in my home, my back was to the wall with them sitting together in front of me. Eli threw his arm around Dez and started trying to dig his knuckles into her head. Her hair got tangled in his ring—the sapphire one she had given him just a week before they died—and they reached for me to untangle them. Once I had crawled over and managed to get her hair out they threw their arms around me and called me their saviour. Gods it hurt hearing the laughter in their voices again. Dez pulled my face to her and kissed my cheek. I knew she was waiting for a kiss back, but I couldn’t look away from Elias. His hair seemed blacker than I remember it being, and his eyes were impossibly blue. He reached out and threaded our fingers together and gods if my heart didn’t leap up into my throat. It felt like Dez had kissed me for the first time all over again. 

He smiled with such fondness it took my breath away. He pulled me in with one arm and tried to pull in Dez with the other. She tried to squirm away but he just caught her by her waist and hauled her up onto his right leg, like she weighed nothing at all to him. He always was the strongest of us three. Able to toss us up over walls or haul us out of rivers like we weighed as much as kittens to him. His strength wasn’t wasted on trying to wrangle Dez in either. She put up quite the fuss, her red hair flying everywhere as she wiggled and laughed in his grip before finally settling against both him and I like it was the most natural thing in the universe. They started talking—I don’t remember what about. I couldn’t bring myself to pay attention to anything other than the feeling of them against me. They were tranquility personified in that moment. I never wanted to wake up.

But I did. I woke up and they’re still gone. I’ll never tell them that I wanted to leave the group. Make due with the three of us in some new city where we’re just normal people. Not a trio of thieves, not a killer, and not a duo mages. Just people. Just a wood elf girl with a laugh that lights up a room, just a half-elf-half-genasi man with a voice that commands respect, just a drow boy that loves the other two with all his heart. Two songbirds and their protector. Desdemona, his little wren. Me, his little nightingale. Him, our ever-vigilant hawk. 

I don’t think I’ll be able to rest for tonight.

I’m gonna go practice with my daggers, hopefully Grog doesn’t try to throw me in the lake thinking I’m an intruder. Goodnight Journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, my boy is very very Bi, and yes Elias is half earth genasi and half elf.  
> I made the executive decision that elves can dream if they get too deep into their trances, which is what happened to Zylas here. 
> 
> I'm also thinking about maybe writing more about these three since Elias literally didn't exist for most of Zy's backstory and I don't know if Zy's feelings were reciprocated or not? I dunno I fly by the seat of my pants for most of this writing lol.


	9. Entry Nine - Take everything sharp away from me please.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to be entirely different but I ended up rewriting the whole thing because I just wasn't feeling the original at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning!!!   
> Zylas is sad about his bad feelings towards sharp objects again.
> 
> Summary in the End Notes.

I think I need to stop messing with daggers. I need to be kept far away from anything sharp. Twice now I’ve found myself running my thumbs along the blades pondering how they would feel against either the skin of my neck or the skin of my new friends. Why am I like this? What in the nine hells has possessed me to think these things? Vatyr’s skin is hot to the touch, and I’ve found myself absently clutching the hilt of one of the practice daggers they had gifted me and imagining if their blood would run just as hot over my hands as their skin is when they pass me a cup at dinner.

I loathe that I think these things but I just can’t seem to stop it… I apologize for staring and they never seem fazed by it. He has no idea that I was staring not because I was transfixed by the way he moves with the music as I tell him, but because I was fantasizing about murdering him. Gods I must be going to hell for this. There’s a small girl here with us; she’s a singer for Oriana’s dancers. She was sneaking by me one night, probably to steal sweets from Oriana’s tent again, and I caught her movement out of the corner of my eye. My first instinct was to take the knife in my hand and plant it firmly in her head. The worst part is that I knew exactly who it was too! I knew perfectly well that the little figure creeping not-so-silently by my practice site was the same child that so often calls me “Mr. Zyzy” and tugs my pants to ask me to “Please make the illusies more brighter so I can see ‘em better,” and I think that if I was just one marble shorter in the head I may just have fallen prey to that sudden flashing impulse… Just the thought of it makes me want to run from here in shame.

I hope to anything and everything even remotely holy they don’t look through you, Journal. I couldn’t stomach the conversation that would likely result from them finding this page.

They’ll think I’m a killer, surely. That I would have no qualms slitting their throats while they sleep on my watch when that’s not the case at all. I’d sooner take a knife to my own skin than use it to harm anyone here. They’ve shown me kindness I haven’t felt since my time with Blue Cypress. Please, if you’re reading this know that I would never do you harm intentionally, though I’m sure you’ve gleaned as much from the digs in the paper from my quill. 

We made it to a city last night and I’m going to go explore to get my mind out of this horrible spiral. I’ll write to you later with my findings Journal, if there’s even anything interesting to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zylas talks about how he has been having some scary intrusive thoughts recently and then contemplates going for a walk in the new city the troupe arrived in the night before to get his mind off of everything. He says he's going to write about anything interesting he finds.


	10. Bonus Entry - Bird's Eye View from a Blue Cypress Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entry Ten has been giving me trouble, so I wrote this to try to get past that block. I also got to write more about my lovely little trio.
> 
> I also edited Elias's age because I realized that if he was seven years older than Zylas then... uh... That would have been an uncomfortable age gap so I retroactively made him twenty-five when Zy is twenty-three (so he would have been 21 when Zylas was imprisoned ) so their relationship (platonic, romantic, or otherwise) is not so gross. So yeah, I'm a great writer :/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings here!
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy!

My name is Zylas Doraith. I’m an ex Blue Cypress operative. Though that wording makes me sound far more important than I actually was… I was one third of the “Eyes in the Tree,” as Cypress put it, along with Desdemona Siannodel and Elias Deshai. 

I worked with Blue Cypress for six years. I joined when I was 13 and left when I was imprisoned at 19. 

I was His left hand man. I was His Nightingale. I was the thief in the night coming to steal your jewels, but I was also the pretty songbird perched on the rooftop luring you out with sweet music only for you to be swept down upon and attacked by His guardsman: Elias Deshai. The hawk at His back, perched at the top of His throne and keeping a watchful eye on everyone, near and far, friend and foe. The bird of prey that would just as soon silently slip the rings off your finger as he would slit your throat and display your corpse as a warning against messing with his Keeper or his little songbirds. Yes, songbirds plural. There was another little birdie that stood to the right of the Cypress tree. She was His little wren. His thief in the night that moulded to fit any circumstance she was presented with. The lovely Desdemona Siannodel. 

We were Cypress’s favorite pets. We were the best there was. Dez was His oldest partner, having joined very shortly after the “planting of the tree” as she liked to call it. She was the first official member, and the youngest ever on record. She joined at age 9 and it was rumored that she was even Cypress’s adopted daughter or little sister. Neither of them refuted nor confirmed these claims. When I asked her about their relationship she only said that he had saved her and now she was working to repay her debt to him. She seemed so sad when she said it that I never asked again.

Elias and I were a package deal. I joined at 13, as I already stated, and Elias joined at the same time I did though he was 15 at the time. 

Dez gained her position at Cypress’ right hand fairly easily, but that’s not to say she didn’t work to be the best damned thief there ever was. She trained herself to never leave a trace, more silent than a mage’s silent image. When she wasn’t training her body she trained her mind. She practically absorbed any and every magical text she could get her hands on. Every night she wasn’t on a job she was sitting by a candle reading and transcribing spells.

Elias was naturally talented in his more strength related endeavors. He was big even as a child, and he never lost his bulk even through his teenage years. If anything he just got bigger, though that was less baby chub and more muscle. When you’re throwing two people over walls and fighting off drunken brawlers in a pub you tend to gain muscle mass quickly. He was very obviously strong, but he was deceptively quiet as well. I swear he could just apparate wherever he wished.

He was strong because of his tendency to casually pick up both me and Dez (when she came into the picture) whenever he wanted and just place us on his shoulders or hold us around our stomachs like kittens. He especially enjoyed picking me up and placing me on his shoulder while I was mid conversation with someone else. That someone was usually Dez, who got an absolute kick out of it every time. I would go from just about eye level with her to towering over basically everyone else all because Eli got bored and wanted to fling me into the air to get some kind of attention (usually my legs dangled over his arm, but a few times he charged my back like a bull and my legs ended up on either side of his head. Those times ended with him nearly face down in the dirt so I could get down without having to jump). He was very much like a cat in that respect—a mischief-maker for attention. 

He always seemed to know when I needed a laugh too. He’d be walking by and see me getting upset or heated about something—usually my magical studies— and would get up in between me and the source of my annoyance and start doing strange things to get me to laugh. Because of his genasi blood, his skin had the feel of a polished gem, and would often reflect an amber light when he was standing by a light source (when we went on jobs he would be covered toe to ear tip in black or deep brown cloth. The only part of him that would meet open air was his eyes) and he would make the tiniest of flames in his palm—sadly all the magic he could muster—and would make the room light up with a warm glow. He would then proceed to make all manner of lewd gestures and shadow puppets on the walls until I either gave up on concentrating and laughed or grappled him to make him stop.

Dez had a much different approach to my frustrations however. When she saw I was starting to hit a roadblock she would start to poke my arm. Those pokes would end up escalating into full-on punches until I was pissed and she dragged me outside to spar. Maybe not the healthiest way to deal with frustration but I always felt better afterward. She always put up one hell of a fight, and I didn’t win every time but I was usually so caught up in the flow of our combat I never really ended up caring who hit the dust first. Our sessions were always a welcome distraction. When I won Dez would always complain about me scuffing her boots or mussing up her hair when it was just as pristinely waved as it had been when she brushed it out however many hours before. She’d go on and on about how she chipped a nail or got dirt in her eye. I would go and look into her eye and there never was anything in there, so I would send her off with a pat on the back (and later on a kiss) and tell her she was absolutely fine. It was an odd routine we had, but it was our little ritual and no one could take it from us.

I got so far off topic with this. It was meant to be a recollection of my time at Blue Cypress and I ended up going on and on about Elias and Desdemona… Oh well… They were a big part of that time in my life so I guess it makes sense that they would take up most of this… account? I’ll call it an account but I think it might just be little snips of what I can remember, standout events and such. Or it may just be about… I don’t have the strength to write out what I call them in my head. Writing always seemed so permanent, but thoughts are personal. Meant for me and known by me alone. Maybe one day I will have the strength to write out fully what they mean to me, and who they are to me. For now, though, those epithets are staying in my mind.

My hand is aching, but I’m able to write for longer periods now, so that’s at least an improvement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this was named "beep boop" because I couldn't think of a title until a few minutes before I posted it.


	11. Entry Ten - Note to self: Don’t fall in love with the sweet little Tiefling at your side. Ever.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zy is the big hurty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever!  
> I had some other stuff planned but I realized I wanted to twist the knife (hee hee) for my next plot point a little more so I wrote an entire entry about Vatyr and Zy getting closer and Zy being the Big Scared about it.
> 
> I also tried a Rich Text format instead of HTML for this entry to try and get my indentations to work which, of course, did nothing. Oh well. Better luck next time I guess?
> 
> Either way, without further ado, enjoy!

So… At least two people now know that I have the markings of a prisoner on my skin.

I’m trying to put my thoughts to paper in hopes that I’ll be able to organize everything that went down… I remember going out after I finished my last entry, it was probably a few hours before midnight, so maybe 9 or 10 pm? I ended up finding a bar and, yeah I know, that’s a bad idea. But I needed to get my mind off of those… sick thoughts, and I figured drinking was the best way, and I… well I may have overdone it a bit. I’m not proud of it, alright?

I just wanted to stop thinking for the night.

I guess the bartender—I remember thinking he was a very pretty human man—could tell I was wanting to get… well, to get to the point I didn’t think about my worries anymore. He gave me exactly what I was looking for. A good few drinks and a couple shots of some god-awful concoction later and I don’t remember much. Just some loud human men, something metal glinting in the light, and possibly being thrown into a wall? Or maybe stumbling into it? I don’t know but whatever happened I’m pretty sure that’s why my face is bruised to hell now. 

Vatyr said he woke up to see me gone from our room. He told me he wasn't too worried at first, just thought I had gone into town for some reason or another. He wasn’t entirely wrong with that. But anyway, he’d been getting worried when I hadn’t returned by noon and he brought up his concerns with Oriana. She apparently said I had probably just ditched the Company and that it was about time. I can’t entirely say whether I’m offended at her lack of trust or if I just want to curl into a ball, considering that she’s at least somewhat right…

Vatyr went to Vail next since Oriana was so blasé when it came to my safety. Vail took Vatyr’s anxiety to heart and they decided to search for me. Thank the gods they left when they did. 

They found me two hours after they set out, bleeding in some shady alley.

I was unconscious but I had somehow had the awareness to cover my wound before I had passed out which ended up probably saving me a lot of grief. That and the person (human?) that thought to stab me seemingly doesn’t know where to stab for maximum damage. (I don’t know why I’m critiquing my attacker’s anatomical knowledge, their ignorance is what kept my existence from ending right then and there in that trash heap.) 

But they didn’t want to leave me to die in an alley, thankfully. They took me back to the camp, just outside the city. Now I don’t remember any of this, but I was in and out of consciousness, fever, dehydration, and a stab wound tend to do a number on the body after all… They got me back to the inn we were staying at across town and started dressing my newly acquired body modification (don’t judge me Journal, I have to make jokes about a stab wound!) and they saw fit—rightfully so—to take off my bloody and dirty shirt. I woke up then.

In the middle of Vatyr pulling the sleeve off of my left arm I shot up and gripped their wrist to stop them, and I have to stress that everything I’m relaying was told to me by Vatyr. I had started mumbling and clawing at Vatyr’s arm as they tried to remove my arm from my shirtsleeve. I started getting more and more frantic until I was screaming and thrashing and fighting to hide my arm. Vail was seemingly unconcerned with my outburst, and was more worried about the now rapidly bleeding hole in my stomach. He and Vatyr wrestled me down. Vail pressed a cloth to the wound to stem the flow of blood and evidently pressed too hard for me to handle—my eyes rolled back into my head and I passed back out. Vatyr said they thought I’d died because I’d suddenly stopped screaming and had gone entirely limp in the pair’s arms. I hadn’t died, sadly.

Vatyr refused to look at me when they relayed this section of events. 

They said they were told to take my shirt off the rest of the way. To inspect my arms and back to make sure there weren’t any more wounds. Vatyr had obeyed and pulled off my shirt the rest of the way to reveal my… brands? Tattoos? I don’t know what to call them. “Marks of past idiocy,” maybe. Vatyr didn’t know what the marks were supposed to mean, so they overlooked it. They’d never seen anything like it after all.

Vail knew. He apparently took one look and instantly went paler than my hair. He told Vatyr to find extra bandages or scraps of cloth to cover them, and that I was right to want them hidden. But Vatyr, being the insatiable tiefling that they are, refused to get up from their spot by my bedside until the markings were explained. And so, Vail told them. He told them that they were the marks of a prisoner. He said that the numbers were for identification, that the dots were for years and the dots that had been slashed through was a marker of how many I had served, and he told them that the lines were for the severity of the crime I had committed… 

  
  


So now they know I’m not only a criminal, but technically one still at large.

  
  


I don’t think I have the words to really, truly describe how I felt when I was told that my sins had been laid bare while I was unconscious. Nor can I really transcribe just how far my stomach sank when Vatyr started shaking… They said they didn’t think differently of me, I’m his friend and I’m good to him and everyone else here and that’s all that matters to him. He’d started to cry then, begging me not to feel betrayed that they did what I had told them not to. 

I don't think he realizes that I don’t have the right to feel betrayed. I don’t. If anything he’s the one that should feel betrayed, or scared, or disgusted. For all they know they might be sleeping beside a murderer! But no. This tiny red tiefling, exuberant in every single way imaginable, was reduced to crying on my chest and begging me not to be mad about a shirtsleeve. I couldn’t even bring myself to hold them as they cried. I just told them it was okay, that I swore I wasn’t mad at them because I wasn’t really aware when I told them not to do it. 

Vail came in a few moments after I had fallen silent, seeing as how my efforts to reassure Vatyr failed. They were still a sobbing mess when he entered. I imagine he was waiting just outside the room for the right moment to come in, I mean the walls and doors of this place frankly aren’t very thick. He told Vatyr to leave but they stared him down with teary eyes and sat right beside my knees on the bed, arms crossed. 

Vail didn’t try telling them to leave again.

He did explain to me that he knew what I had been hiding. He set to work checking the area around my newly bandaged stab wound when he spoke quietly into my ear. 

“I don’t think less of you.” 

He whispered when he told how everyone has something they’re hiding, and that he wouldn’t ask about the skeletons in my closet. He stepped away like he had found everything satisfactory. He smiled at me and damn it, he looked so much like my father it made my heart ache… The room blurred and I couldn’t figure out why until Vatyr’s hand was wiping away tears from my face. Vail said he would leave me to recover and that I was to remain on bed rest until I was told otherwise. I tried to speak past the lump in my throat to thank him. Tell him thank you for not calling the guards. Thank you for not throwing me out to die. Thank you for treating me with such kindness. Thank you for not pressing for my story.

I couldn’t get out a single word of it, so instead I just nodded and let him leave with a smile. Vatyr turned to me once the door closed. They crawled over to me, wrapped their arms around me, and gods I cried like a baby. It hurt like hell but I just couldn’t stop myself… It took me a while to calm down. When I had, I asked Vatyr to please help me fill in what information I was missing, I needed to know. So, he explained what he knew, which is some of the above information, plus what I remember and what I experienced first-hand.

By the time he finished I was feeling more exhausted than I had any reason to be. I told him I was tired. He just patted my leg and said I should rest, that he would watch over me.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until I woke up to Vatyr curled beside me. My head was swimming and I had to get my thoughts in order, which is where this entry began. I don’t think this really did anything to help me though… Vatyr’s been asleep next to me for the duration of this writing, his head at my hip. His innocent trust hurts worse than the knife did, I think. He’s lucky I went for my ink and quill from the table between our beds and not the dagger that’s just a few inches to the right. He looks... peaceful. Every time her stirs I can hardly resist the urge to run my fingers through his hair to calm him.  


What's going on with me, Journal? My heart thumped like a rabbit's foot when his tail wrapped around my ankle... Gods save me. I can't afford to feel this way about someone again. Not after what happened to Dez and... yes, I'll say it, Elias. Damn it Journal I need to stop this before it even starts! I can't... I couldn't handle that kind of heartbreak a second time.

My hand is starting to cramp… I’m going to stop this entry here.

Goodnight Journal… I’ll write to you again soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe in two entries I'll get to where my group's Adventure started...
> 
> I just hope I'll get through Zy's take of the Adventure before the actual Campaign ends, but at this rate I'll probably be done with the Adventure part about two million years after the Campaign has already ended.


	12. Entry Eleven - Mist.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — Trigger Warning!!!!! —  
> Graphic depictions of violence, torture, restraints, and helplessness in the face of said torture.
> 
> ... I'm not good at tagging these types of things so if I missed something major, please let me know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been struggling to get into his headspace recently since I haven't played him for a while, so if it seems like he's writing strangely, that's why.

I had another nightmare Journal…

I was in my cell, alone. The one across from mine—Ruek’s old one—was empty. Everything was eerily silent. Until it wasn't. A shadow figure, humanoid, began to move across the walls. It twirled and danced and began to chatter at me. It had no mouth, but I knew the sound was coming from it. It was so loud my ears ached. I tried to cover them to block out the noise but all it did was make it grow louder… Overlapping voices ripped at my mind, half of them faded into ugly laughter that made me want to cry. I had the distant thought that it seemed like the shadow was taking some kind of sick pleasure in torturing me. 

Oh how right I would be.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed my back into the corner of my cell so hard I could swear my legs and spine creaked at the force of it. I couldn’t escape it though. It was on me in an instant, wrenching my hands away from my face. How it became corporeal enough to do so I have no idea. Dream logic, I guess… It held my wrists in one hand to the wall. Please Journal, believe me when I tell you that I fought and kicked and struggled like my life depended on it. All I did succeeded in was getting myself into deeper shit. It’s chatters and whispers got louder and louder. I thrashed and fought and screamed but my kicks flew right through it. It sat astride my hips to restrain me further and as it did my limbs went numb and heavy, as though coated with lead… It pulled it’s hand back and over its head and for a moment I thought it planned on trying to bash my face in, but I wish that’s what it did now… It’s hand plunged into my chest, rending the breath from my lungs. Everything went white for a moment. The room was filled with ghoulish laughter from it as it ripped at my heart and shredded my lungs. I couldn’t fight. All I could do was scream and beg in my mind. 

It wrenched it’s hand free from my chest and I was sure it had ripped my heart out, but when I looked there was nothing in it’s hand. I don’t know how, but it somehow pushed my back flat to the floor, even though I had just been pressed into the corner not but a second beforehand—again, dream logic— and slammed the heel of its hand into my throat. 

It felt far realer than it should have. My lungs started burning and my throat ached from the pressure of it’s hand on my windpipe. I’m sure if my heart would have pounded like a rabbit’s foot if it hadn’t been torn to ribbons a few moments before.

It forced the thumb and forefinger of its free hand into my mouth, prying it open as I choked for air. It leaned over me until our lips nearly touched, and all I could see was the unending blackness of it’s form. Its face split open in a grotesque mimicry of a smile, and a horrible mist, denser and colder than any air I‘ve ever seen and for some gods forsaken reason I couldn’t…

  
  


I should have been unconscious by that point, but dreams aren’t as kind as reality in that respect… Its hand in my mouth slipped away, but before I could bask in the minor reprieve it’s disgusting smile was on me… It tasted like the smell of a damp crypt. It’s coldness caused goosebumps to instantly coat my body, and the feeling only worsened when it’s free hand came up and pinched my nose. I remember vaguely wondering what the point of that was. It was already choking me after all. But I knew why when it released my throat and parted it’s lips, spilling that mist into my mouth. Gods, Journal I tried to avoid breathing it in, I did, but I couldn’t help it. I gasped for air but the mist choked me further. I coughed and sputtered until fresh air flooded me. But the mist still filled my destroyed lungs, seeping from my body onto the floor.

It backed away and released my nose, letting out self-satisfied gibbers. It jerked me to my feet, forcing me to look at the cell across from mine. Inside wasn’t Ruek, or even empty air. Inside was myself and the monster. It held me in place, one hand holding me by my hair, and the other sprawled ever-so-delicately across my jaw, like it fancied that it could act like a lover would…

My hands still flew through it when I tried to pull it’s disgusting claws away by it’s wrist. It leaned in close, and gibbered in my ear. It grew louder, louder, and louder still. Pain shot through my skull, making the vision in my left eye white out. It’s lips pressed to my ear. It’s voices synced together. It was trying to tell me something, I assume, but I didn’t care.

I couldn’t care. Not when that mist seemed to pour from me unendingly and grow colder by the second.

I woke when it’s clawed fingers wrapped around my neck again, and it began to dig in. I swear I could still feel the coldness emanating from me moments after I sat bolt upright in bed. There was nothing there, of course, but it was still horrible.

I need to get up and get my mind off of things. I know Vatyr won’t like it but I don’t care right now. I think I might go scope out that one house I mentioned a few entries back, see what they have.

Wish me luck Journal. Goodnight.

Postscript:

_It was real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fun fun we're starting the campaign on Friday and I get to play with him again!


	13. Entry Twelve - Scream for help. I’ll be gone when you next blink.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha Zyzy go Poof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say thank you to any consistent readers of this little experiment. It's nice that you're sticking around. <3

I vanished into the night again.

I went into that house. I found some mask with… It looks like three faces, I don’t know. It’s magic, that’s all I know. It was in the master bedroom, Mister and Missus Money, asleep in their bed. I crept in, yoinked it off the mantle and planned on escaping out the window. 

Nothing is ever that easy.

One stray mutt. That’s all it took. I opened the window, planned on clinging to the wall so I could make my escape unknown by closing that window. After which, I was going to jump to the balcony on the second floor, vault over the fence, and become one with the night. Didn’t work like that, of course not! I opened the window and some…  _ Baron-Mutt _ started barking. Apparently Missus was a light sleeper. It woke her and she saw me there, silhouetted in the window. She started screaming, started hitting Mister’s arm and screamed for her guards.

I’m sure his wife screaming and beating on him roused him but I didn’t stick around to meet his eyes. I didn’t even bother trying to land on the balcony below me so I would be able to jump over the fence safely. I went straight from the window, aiming for the other side of the fence. The estate’s private guards were on high alert. No doubt they saw me flying from the third story like a caped crusader. My ankles didn’t exactly enjoy my landing, nor did my knees. But the adrenaline was what let me get back to my feet and run back to the gap in the wall, all the way across the community. 

But… This is where it gets blurry. Literally blurry, not like a hazy memory. Every time I exhaled my vision would black out. I didn’t realize it until moments ago but… It was the same mist from my… Dream? Torture? I don’t know what to call it. At the time, though, I just thought it was my vision fading out from the pain of, what I also assumed to be, a broken ankle. It wasn’t. I ran and ran until I slipped out of the hole in the wall and I kept running until I hit the side of the inn the Company is staying at. Or… was? I don’t know. I climbed into the room Vatyr and I were in. I heard the guards trying to creep around in whatever armor they had scrambled to put on after they’d been woken. It was dark, and it eased my eyes to see the blankness of the walls, solid and safe. I took my bag—thank the Gods that I keep everything in one place— and readied myself to climb back out that window and just… Let the night take me, again. As it always seems to.

Vatyr was still asleep when I got in, and I had the strangest urge when I saw him… I wanted to just… Kiss his forehead? I don’t know why. I didn’t do it, either! It would have been such a huge violation of his trust but… Well. That trust doesn’t really exist anymore, does it? I made my way into the street below and out of his life forever. It’s for the best, I’m sure. I doubt Oriana would let me stay around if she knew I was being actively hunted by the guards. Hell, I bet she’d have tied me up and delivered me to them herself if it meant the Company wouldn’t be put in trouble for harboring a criminal. Not that I blame her, really.

I’m getting distracted… Or maybe I’m procrastinating, I don’t know.

But, I ran. I ran and I ran and I ran until I hit a hole in the city wall I thought I could escape through. The only thing I was escaping, it turns out, was my life of freedom. I almost impaled myself on the sword a guard decided to stick through at the last second. I think he was aiming to kill me, honestly. I managed to stop my momentum by grabbing the wall and digging my heels into the dirt. I turned and tried to sprint the other way only to find my escape route blocked by two guards. Three more closed in on my right and I just… I don’t know. My mind whited out in fear. “I can’t be caught again.” “I can’t be thrown back in that cell again…” 

I turned, threw my arms across my face like I was blocking a blow, and charged into the wall, head first. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I would go straight through it.

And it worked! I felt this horrible coldness wash over my entire body; my breath froze in my throat and my muscles seized with both the sudden cold, and fear from the sickening pit in my stomach. I fought through it and came out the other side, literally. When I opened my eyes again I was several feet from the wall and fleeing on foot through the forest. I would love to see the looks on those guards’ faces as I did…  _ Whatever  _ I did, but I didn’t have the soundness of mind to even contemplate doing so in that moment. I just kept going. I ducked under branches and jumped over fallen trees and did everything I could to get away. I think in that moment, I really, truly understood how the rabbit feels as it’s being hunted. The pounding of its heart and the awareness it has of everything flying by around it as it’s would-be killers chase it down, blinded in their bloodlust. 

But… I know now that dream was real, because when I finally fell—my legs giving out Gods know how far away from the city—that same mist from my dream was pouring from my mouth. I hate that—Gods… I pray to Olimrath that no one reads you, Journal,— I hate that I enjoyed the way it felt. It cooled my throat, and the thickness filled my chest pleasantly. It no longer felt like it was trying to choke the life out of me, but rather that it was coiling nicely inside me.

Gods, that’s horrible to actually write out. I would never tell anyone, but you’re… safe. I think. You’re something I can dump everything into and it’ll all stick to pages so susceptible to flame or water. If I ever needed to get rid of you I could toss you into the nearest river, or set you ablaze and never look back. It wouldn’t be like killing a person who knows everything about me. You’re just ink and leather and fragile paper.

Writing in you has helped me calm down. Thank you for that. The mist stopped curling over my lips a few minutes after I began writing, but the taste still hasn’t left me. Warm earth and rain… Such a strange combination.

I’m not going to sleep, but I’m going to rest, at least. I may not be shaking anymore but that sudden kick of adrenaline is still humming in my blood. I need to find a way to calm down so I can get moving again in the morning.

Goodnight Journal. I’ll write to you again sometime soon.


	14. Entry Thirteen - I’m not crazy, I'm just desperate, okay Journal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're so close to Zy's entries from the actual campaign!!!

Hey Journal. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I’ve been laying low for… Well frankly I don’t know how long. Say, do you remember the paper that man put in my bag before I… attacked him? Well, turns out it was a spell. Invisibility, to be exact. That’s been more than useful recently. Duck into an alley and poof, it can be like I never existed. That mask has also come in handy, I’ve been able to take an apple as a human woman, a piece of bread as a half-elf man, and no one is any the wiser as to just who’s taking their stock. But apples and bread is only getting me so far. I can only be someone else for about three hours most days, and that’s stretching it. It’s… draining, to say the least. I’ve gotten thinner. Nights are getting colder, too. I can’t find anyone willing to let me in, even the poorhouses here are racist!

I hate it here, but I can’t build up enough food to leave, and it’s either go into the wastelands (where I would be killed, no doubt) or risk living in the forest again but the forest is, from what I’ve heard, crawling with monsters. I refuse to die in some back alley or cell though. I— Okay Journal promise you won’t think me mad?

… I’ll take your lack of sentience as a yes.

I’m thinking of becoming a mercenary to the King. Yes, yes, I know, it’s probably not smart. But it’s either I try for a job with the King or die cold and hungry on the street. I’m going to trek it as quickly as I can through the Foxwood and hopefully make it in time to test my mettle for him. Apparently what he’s asking is so dangerous that he’s having hardened veterans refusing his offer, even with the reward.

But, in the case that I accepted King Berk’s offer and subsequently died, and someone who knows Common is reading this, please refer to the first entry in this journal, and follow the instructions I listed. If not, also refer to the first page and read my indignation at what I think probably happened.

Anyway. Maybe next time I write to you, Journal, I’ll be in the Enchanted City as a mercenary for the King. (If they even let me in.)


	15. Entry Fourteen - Monsters are nice now? I think?

I have no idea what just happened.

I just… was walking through the forest and some.. thing? Came charging out of a denser part of the trees to my left. I didn’t have time to draw my dagger, I didn’t even have time to scream before it was on me. It slammed it’s hand across my chest, pinning me down as it pounced. My head hit the dirt painfully. It’s jaws were poised over my face, just about to strike, when it stopped. It stopped and started at me with it’s malevolent eyes like it was trying to look  _ through _ me. It’s gaze trailed to my mouth, then up and away from my face. It’s eyes rolled in it’s sockets like it was watching something before it just… got up? It growled something that I think was supposed to be a word before it walked away into the trees it came from and seemingly dissolved into the darkness!

I… have no words to explain how I feel other than confusion.

I think I’m just gonna camp here for the night. I’m at the edge of the Foxwood, and I should be able to make it to the Enchanted City before sundown tomorrow. I’ll write to you soon Journal, as long as I don’t get eaten by some beast or murdered at the front gates.


	16. Entry Fifteen - Baby birds are the cutest things ever and no one can prove me wrong.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zyzy has a little Penguin to look after now.

It worked! Journal, my plan worked!

I guess the King didn’t want to risk a Paladin on this but still it’s… strange, the other people being sent with me. There’s an old Wizard who I’m starting to think is a bit racist, a Jester whose name we don’t know (I don’t think he’s right in the head but frankly I can’t be one to talk), a country bumpkin kid who knows his way around a sword, and lastly a sweet little birdy named Pango. He’s been sticking to my side like glue since he was added to our party and frankly he just melts my heart. Journal I swear, he’s cuter than Eli’s dog was when he was a puppy. But anyway, we were told to work together and sent on our way.

I haven’t even told you what our quest is have I? Gods I’m sorry I’m just… scatterbrained. So much has happened today. We’ve been conscripted to fight and kill the Tiefling Warlord named Kaya.

She ambushed us in the Foxwood just a few miles out of the Enchanted City, but she didn’t actually harm us? It was strange. Foxwood is so bright it kills my eyes to be anywhere near it, but when she appeared it was like she turned off the sun! No one else could see her but me and… Well… She said there was something different about me. I don’t know what that means and frankly I don’t care. Maybe she was talking about the fact that I didn’t fall like everyone else. Maybe it was because I’m immune to whatever power or spell she used? What do you think Journal?

I’ll take your lack of response as agreement. 

Kaya is… a strange character. Most of what I’ve experienced all day can be described as strange, frankly. But she’s a tiefling. I thought King Berk ordered them all eradicated, but I guess she somehow survived. Then again, I had thought the same thing about wizards, and yet I’m traveling with one.

My little birdie is currently asle—————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: That giant line at the end? Yeah that's Zylas dragging his quill to oblivion because Kaya popped in and scared him mid-word.
> 
> After this he tried to stab Kaya in the throat, failed, hallucinated Desdemona's voice and then jumped out a window into the street below and didn't come back until morning.
> 
> My boy is having some issues™, essentially.


	17. Entry Sixteen - I’m a monster’s puppet.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zylas meets The Ceaseless Watcher, but with more broken fog machines and sad penguin babies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! We're getting to the good stuff!

I can’t catch a break, not even for  _ one day...  _

We went to a library today. I ended up stealing a weird book and a few simple ones in Elvish so I can finally try learning to read it, and an amulet with an eye. It glowed green when I touched it. I was drawn to it. I felt like I  _ had  _ to take it, unless I would be passing up a huge opportunity. Gods... I want to tackle past me. Well... No. Not entirely. I gained a lot of knowledge from what happened after I grabbed it but still... that doesn’t make all of what I learned any easier to swallow.

I found a secluded area and started staring at the amulet. Nothing happened. I poked its eye. Nothing. I was getting bored so I wanted to have some fun. “Tell me your secrets!” I went immensely theatrical with that line. Deep, commanding voice, arms thrown akimbo, chest puffed, fingers wiggling, legs kicking out from where I was sitting, the whole shebang. I guess the Eye has some sense of humor because it started glowing again. But not just glowing, oh no Journal. No, it started  _ whispering _ to me. Hundreds of voices layered over my ears like a cotton blanket, blocking out the rest of the world.

Naturally, I didn’t expect this, so I asked it what it even was. “I am Everything, and Everything is I!” It boomed in my head. I thought this was complete garbage, and I told it so. It was acting so tough and self-important, I figured it needed to be taken down a few pegs. Nothing major, really, just poking some fun. Nothing so extreme as to make me deserve the feeling that fell over me...

All at once, all over my body, I felt a horrible crawling sensation. As though someone had dumped bugs directly into my veins and let them run wild. Strangely enough the memory of being choked out flashed through my head at that moment. It felt similar. That wild tingling in your nerves; the kind you can even feel in your teeth. It was like that, only I wasn’t detecting any of the merciful blackness that would have closed around the edges of my vision, nor the fog that should have obscured the rest of my fading perception of the world. No, I was not to escape that wretched crawling through the sweet release of unconsciousness.

By this point I was feeling, well a myriad of things really. Disgust, fear, panic, curiosity, they all roiled in my head. I felt a horrible certainty that if I looked at my hands, I would really see the bugs making their home in my blood. I forced my hand up to my face, shuddering through the sensation, and when I looked I saw—Nothing. Just my hand, plain as ever. I remember sighing in frankly rightful frustration. I was sick of these hallucinations, I still am! First Dez’s voice, and now bugs in my body… I need one day where my mind doesn’t try to attack me… But I guess the Eye isn’t as friendly as I originally assumed it to be, seeing as it didn’t seem to take too kindly to my frustration. That…  _ Baron-Spawned thing _ glowed again, this time bright enough to blind me. Icy air filled my lungs, sharp like breathing jagged glass. It raked at my throat and lungs as I drowned in the Eye’s emerald glow.

When my vision cleared, I was no longer in Raham Tower. I… struggle to describe what I saw though. . Dark, I guess, is an apt way of putting it? I could still see, but I think that’s only because of my blood. The one time my Drow heritage makes things easy for me rather than making my life harder, and it’s when I’m in some kind of dark hell dimension… Honestly, it’s morbidly fitting in a way. The ground—what little I could see—was barren. A white mist hung thick in the air. In the distance I could make out the faint outline of the library I had just been in; a bastion of familiarity in an unfamiliar and desolate landscape. 

Pango was still hanging by my back and was freaking out by this point. I told him to close up the bag and not to come out, under any circumstances until I explicitly stated that it was safe, and when I tapped his bag three times. He sealed himself inside and I set off for Raham.

As I ran…  _ Something _ loomed out of the fog to my right. I looked at it without thinking. It was… Awful. It was huge. Wings fanned out from Its back and vanished into the fog, Its head flattened and extended past It’s shoulders on either side, and three bright, piercing eyes bore into me as It turned and focused on me there—tiny in comparison to It’s enormity and all-encompassing  _ wrongness _ —almost entirely hidden by the mist that surrounded me.

And it spoke.

It spoke. Told me I was It’s “Observer.” That I was It’s eyes into Alamora. It said the shadows would “kneel before me.” It’s voice shook the ground, shook my body, if I didn’t know better, I would have said it seemed to pull and shake my mind. It told me It was the reason I’ve been hearing whispers…  _ It _ is the thing that forbids me rest when I am alone… I asked It if there were others like me out there, wandering Alamora, unaware that they are being used as windows for this…  _ Thing _ . I didn’t get a straight answer, though frankly I don’t think I could get one from It even if I begged. It told me It only selected people that It deemed worthy to be It’s eyes—It’s Observers—And that I was a “rare case.” I didn’t have time to ask for an explanation, because when I blinked, the air was no longer a cutting cold, and I was back in the Library.

Everything that happened after we were dumped gracelessly back into the world seemed to go by so quickly. Pango was terrified, Akira (the country bumpkin kid I mentioned earlier) was a depressed puddle on the ground and refused to get up, Jason told us that the Librarian wasn’t actually the Librarian, but an imposter, I was begging everyone to leave, and the Faux-Librarian attacked the Jester. Jason wiped the floor with the Faux-Librarian and he and I went outside while Jester and Akira did Gods-know-what in there.

I remember very vividly that Jason finally called me by my name, though. He was panicking, asking me if I had seen the Librarian. I told him I had, and then the events previously stated took place. 

Gods what I wouldn’t give for a drink right now. If I didn’t have to be here to clear my bounty I would march all the way to Brastow and get wasted right now. At least I’d get to see that bartender again. He was easy on the eyes at least… Really nice too. Say Journal, do you think I’d have a shot with him? Maybe if he swings that way… Could be a good way to blow off some steam… Know what? I’ll pop that in my back pocket for later, if we make it back from our Wastelands excursion. And if he doesn’t bat for that team, oh well. At least I’ll get some good ale and an even better conversation partner. Either way it’s a win-win for me. 

I showed Pango some magic not too long ago. He was particularly impressed by the Mask I picked up a while back. I… Well. I became Elias when I put it on. He was the first person that popped into my head. Pango… Asked me some pretty hard questions. Namely “Who are you supposed to be, Zylas?” Journal how do I answer that? I really don’t know. I just told him that I’m still figuring it out and that he didn’t need to worry about it.

Akira went out to train, and I’m taking watch for when he comes back. Pango is asleep on my leg, Jester is… Well frankly I don’t know if that guy sleeps, or trances or what honestly, but he’s being quiet. And Jason is asleep by the fire. I’m gonna keep an eye out now. Goodnight Journal. Hopefully nothing goes wrong.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Postscript: Werewolves almost attacked us but Akira used the Librarian’s old weapon (which is apparently made of the sun!? What!?) to scare them off. We set out for Luga and made it there unharmed. It also seems that there aren’t any wanted posters of me, Dez, Eli, or Cypress, which is a relief. 

Jason is giving me a funny look, so I’m just gonna put you away and drink. Hopefully the buzz will drown out the watched feeling I'm getting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this entire chapter while listening to Norupo by Heilung on repeat and my god does it make the Eye bit ominous.
> 
> Also, keep watch for mentions of tingles, feeling watched, too-dark shadows, or green glowy stuff. It's important. ;)
> 
> Edit: Right after I posted this I got attacked by a moth that tried making a home in my hair. Does this mean something..?  
> Also, I got another Kudo! Thank you for the Kudos, they feed me when I can't get st̶a̶t̶e̶m̶e̶n̶t̶s̶ salty stuff. <3


	18. Entry Seventeen - Birds shouldn't live as long as this one has. (Especially not when they're as broken as me.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG BIG BIG WARNINGS!  
> (This story is rated Mature for a reason, but still.) 
> 
> This chapter deals with kidnapping, stalking, blood, hallucinations, paranoia, unreality, and attempted murder. (Wow that's a lot...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun my little birds!

I thought I killed Nightingale years ago.

I was wrong.

I thought he died with Veris Khalin, beaten and bloody in that cold stone cell. He didn’t though. He lurked in the shadows, watching me, waiting for me. He sat up in that little window in the hall, body warped and twisted to weave through the bars. He sang the same tunes I once did, now through split lips and bloody teeth.

Words that once brought me comfort now spilled from his lips and seeped into my blood like poison. His eyes, pale green like mine, glowed menacing and neon from the too-dark shadows of our cell. His once charming grin sharpened as he smiled at my suffering. But I escaped him for a short time. I ran from him and the ghost of the boy I murdered in cold blood with ashes in my hair, blood on my boots, and darkness staining my lips. 

I didn’t think he would follow me.

Cypress is the one that led him directly to me. He held me, kicking and screaming, and forced me to face the Nightingale. I don’t know how Cypress found me, but he did. I didn’t think it was even him. He’s changed so much. He came in covered head to toe in fabric and pain, and on his shoulder, still singing that wretched song, was the Nightingale I once was. The bird’s mouth gaped at me, in what I believe to be a twisted mimicry of my own expression, as I was called by  _ his  _ name. Cypress didn’t seem to notice the grotesque ghost hanging on his shoulder, but I did. I saw his gaze flit from his master, to Pango—now hanging in Cypress’ grip and screaming screaming  _ screaming _ —to me. His malevolent eyes (had they always been so bright?) fixated on me.

He grinned. 

My blood fell in clotted chunks from his teeth.

I begged for mercy. He did not answer.

I screamed for something I knew would answer me. It did. That  _ Thing _ that resides in an in-between answered my pleas. It’s mist wove around me. It mercifully numbed me to everything but rage. It freed me from the binds Cypress had trapped me with—only physically. I don’t think I’ll be free of the bird cage he so kindly put me in— and I lunged for the bird that has followed me for so long.

I hit Cypress instead. I had expected an all-consuming rage to cloud my vision but I could see just fine. In fact, I saw  _ everything. _ I tackled him to the ground and wrapped my hands around his throat as a jolt shot through me like lightning. My nerves lit ablaze as I threw myself bodily into the idea that I was going to strangle him to death. Right then and there. His heart infuriatingly refused to pound under the cage of my fingers, but I knew it would. As he faded, as his eyes became bloodshot, his heart would give that flutter I craved.

He still had the breath—the  _ gall _ — to speak to me.

"Either you kill me, or you save the life of your penguin friend."

Pango is sleeping near me as I write this.

A bird is singing outside, and I don’t have the courage to look up and see if it’s him or not… The song is drowning out the whispers now.

Journal, I almost killed someone I knew today. I genuinely wanted to. I can’t even bring myself to feel remorse either… I’m becoming the monster he wanted me to be, I think. I’m going to let it happen too. If it’ll let me take him out of this world. The man I knew would never have wanted to become this perverted version of him. 

I need rest. Goodnight Journal. I just hope that wretched bird will leave, and that my necklace stops blinking at me… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a doozy!  
> This part was much less poetic in the RP, but it was still so intense it made me sweat. 
> 
> Cypress has a quirk of naming people close to him after birds and that has extended to himself as some of the followers he's amassed have taken to calling him "Vulture."


	19. Bonus Entry #2 - I can't change the past, but it hurts to leave it behind, too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed to de-stress after the last Entry so I wrote about my two favorite boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the DM of our group for helping me come up with the name of this chapter!

Elias and I had been friends nearly our whole lives. We stuck out like sore thumbs in the tiny village of humans that bordered the Wastes. Our town was so small you couldn’t find it on any maps, and everyone knew everyone. You know, they say familiarity breeds contempt. I never thought that was true. But looking back now, I’d say it is, in the case of our little town. Laeida, they called it. Apparently it was founded by a group of Elves and humans decades ago, but the Elves died out and all that was left was the little population of humans. They never changed the name to a Common name though. I wonder why. But, anyway, back to the topic at hand.

Elias and I were the only kids there who looked different. I was purple, and he shone in the sun like a polished gem, of course we would stand out. Elias always stood tall though. He was proud of who he was. His father was a descendant of Fearann, one of the most powerful Genie ever to exist. It’s said that he shook the land so deeply even the Merfolk felt it tremble in their secluded sea homes. His father wasn’t as strongly an earth-shaker as some others, but it’s said that his hands and voice were always steady. I never met the man, but Eli’s eyes would shine with admiration when he spoke of his father and his mother would smile wistfully when she told us stories of him. He’d died when Elias was just a year old, and his mother had to raise him by herself.

He wasn’t only proud of his Genasi blood though. He kept his hair short to proudly display the point to his ears, and sometimes, when we were walking through the streets, he would start to sing Elvish lullabies or work tunes. His mother was a wood elf. Funnily enough I think “willowy” would be the best way to describe her. She stood tall, dwarfing me, but Elias stood head and shoulders above her. She spoke softly and smiled often. She was a comforting person, always welcoming me in when I would show up at ungodly hours of the night, usually after a dangerous job. She never asked questions, just pulled me inside and set me at the dining table of their tiny house and started making tea. Sometimes Elias would wake and stumble in half asleep, other times it would just be me and her, quietly drinking tea until the sun rose or she waved me to Elias’s bedroom so I could get some rest and not stay up for too many hours at a time. 

When Elias would wake and dawn was several hours off, he would pull me into the bedroom himself and sit me on the bed. He’d sit on the floor in front of me and wait until I was able to breathe steadily, and then demand I spill my guts to him. I always would. He’d sit in silence for a bit, then nod and say “Right.” decisively. He would either take my hand and drag me out his bedroom window and up to the rickety roof—that thing always seemed one wrong step away from caving in—to watch the stars and moon sink and the sun rise, or he would start to quiz me on my elvish. It might seem strange, but it always helped me get my mind off of what had made me run to his house in the first place. 

My parents always thought that if I didn’t come home, I was with Elias, and vice versa for his mother and my home. It made doing late-night jobs quite easy, and since we lived on opposite ends of Laeida, our parents never thought to walk all the way across town to see if we were actually where we said we were. Sleepovers were common though. If Elias was sent as muscle for a job by Cypress and was too tired to walk home, he would just climb in through my bedroom window and stay with me. It was… easy. We’d been inseparable for years, so it felt right to be near each other often.

He was a very easy to spot person when he wasn’t in his work clothes. He was big, he glinted in the sun, and his eyes glittered in firelight like the fine sapphires I was often sent to steal from Lugan nobles. He was often the target of insults because of his strange characteristics, but he never resorted to violence against the other kids, even when we were young. He just squared his shoulders and bore it, though it was only the brave or stupid kids that would target him. Most were afraid because he was so big, and eventually it even spared me from the bullies as well. The reason we even met was because I was being attacked by a group of human kids who were much bigger than me. They had backed me into a corner and were throwing stones at me. I was curled in a ball, trying to just wait out their torment when it all suddenly stopped. I hadn’t heard the kids run away, and their little leader hadn’t called the order to leave me be for the day either. I opened my eyes and there was Elias, standing in the way of the bullies’ onslaught. He just stood there silently blocking them until they ran out of stones to throw and just… left. 

Ever since then I stuck by his side. At first it was just for safety, but that quickly just became a nice little bonus. We became fast friends, rarely going into town without each other. I realized very quickly that I was able to completely disappear when I hid behind him, and we would take full advantage of that. He would spot kids coming our way and tap my wrist or shoulder and I’d swivel to the side and just vanish completely.We thought was hilarious. My bullies on the other hand… Not so much. They took to calling me “Fly” and “Little Shadow” (That last one was more often than not a jab at both my proximity to Elias and… Well… The fact that I’m a bit darker than a normal human…) 

I stopped running from them then. I stopped lying, stopped telling my mom and dad that the bruises were from me tripping, that the cuts were from being clumsy. I didn’t need to. I started slipping just out of sight. I think that’s where my (for lack of better words) adrenaline addiction began. The thrill of hiding less than three feet away from them as they looked for me was unparallelled to a young me. If my “wall” (as some girls took to calling Elias) was not around I began to slip into alleyways to avoid them. I remember one time my main bully—Deward Dunwich was his name— had it out for me quite a bit one day. Elias was home sick with a fever so I had been left to fend for myself. I’d been on my way to get some sweets for him (I’d been planning to sneak into his room and share them with him. Happiness is the best medicine after all.) and I’d been able to get them without incident. But the bakery was much closer to my house than his, so I had to walk all the way across town to get the pastries to him. Dunwich chose to strike as I was halfway there. Him and his goons—they were people I thought had been friends of mine at one point, oh how wrong I was—ambushed me near Fiora’s house. They drove me into the alley. One of them—Cleo. I’d recognise those wild eyes anywhere. He taught me to climb trees you know, a lifetime ago— started trying to poke at me with a stick like I was an animal.

I couldn’t escape, they had me backing myself into a corner to get away from their onslaught. I was frantically looking “Where can I go, jump through the window? No that’ll get me in so much trouble! Maybe…?” My gaze fell on a slope in the roof. I could jump. I could make it. One boy threw a rock that slammed into my shoulder. Cleo’s stick rammed for my eye. I jumped. And I made it. I scrambled up on the roof like a brigand running with his spoils. None of them could jump high enough to get me. Cleo tried, and when he couldn’t reach he drew back his arm. I had a brief second where I distantly realized that he had just thrown his stick at my head. It missed, of course, seeing as my feet had a mind of their own and were sending me flying over the rooftops.

I ended up running over the tops of the houses all the way to the edge of town, where they got so spaced out that my legs couldn’t carry me anymore. It took me quite some time to figure out how to get down. I felt like a cat stuck up a tree, just minus the claws and pitiful mewling. I ended up stepping on a windowsill (I think it was Josie’s house? I saw a chair on the porch that might’ve been hers.) and walked on shaky legs to Elias’s house. I then enacted my plan, that being: sneak in and share my treasure! I’ll never forget the look on his face when I showed him the sugar buns. You’d think I’d just dumped three month’s pay in his lap. This was when we worked for Cypress you see. 

He started eating, but then he took one look at my scratched face and dirty clothes and immediately set aside his sweets to ask me what happened. I explained it all, of course I did. I couldn’t just leave him in the dark about my daring sugar conquest now could I? I got a bit too loud though. His mother came running in, sewing needle and dress still in hand to see what all the noise was. Once she saw it was me she just shook her head and went back to her work. She was the best seamstress in town.

I ended up staying with Elias again that night. His fever spiked and I didn’t want to leave him. His mother was exhausted, it was easy to see. Her usually proud posture was drooping like a plant without water. Dark bags and worry lines marred her smiling face. I told her I’d sit vigil with him for the night, and she didn’t have it in her to fight. I ran back home quickly (I felt like I was flying over the city as I stepped lightly from the top of one home to another, silent as a ghost) to tell my parents that I was staying the night. They didn’t mind, thankfully, and I stayed the rest of the night at his bedside.

He'd tossed and turned as he slept and he woke once asking for water, but otherwise the night was uneventful. His fever broke a couple days later, and he silently took up his mantle as my guardian again even though I swore he didn’t need to. All he had to say against my protests was “Your bruises say otherwise.” I couldn’t exactly argue with that or make him do anything he didn’t want to, so I let him keep watch over me. He kind of had a point though… I did tend to get less bruises when he was around. 

He was my light in the storm. The one I could run to if I needed a break from the world. I hope I was the same for him… He was always a very gentle person. I guess that’s why working with him and then coming home was so… strange. It’s like he was an entirely different person. I was too, to be fair. At work I put on my best smile, I leaned in just right, asked the right questions to keep people distracted. I was the face of the operation. Elias was the muscle. All he would have to do is lean on a door frame and stare intensely at whatever shopkeep thought themself above paying their dues or and boom! Instant compliance. You know Journal, he once told me that he was afraid to hug me because he thought he would accidentally snap me in half? How crazy is that! I told him as much, and he just shook his head and didn’t say anything more on it.

He did accidentally hurt me, only once. He’d been throwing stones over the lake by our hideout. I had seen him a little ways away and got the idea in my head to swim to the middle of the lake and pop up to scare him. A friendly little prank, right? I stripped, hid my clothes behind a rock, slipped into the water, and got to swimming.

Turns out,  _ he _ also had the idea to start testing his strength by hucking larger and larger stones into the lake! So when some dark shape pops out of the water and lunges, his immediate response is apparently to throw whatever is in his hand as _ hard as he can _ . Let’s just say he had to do some fishing to get me out of there and had to carry me, soaking and naked and bloody, all the way back home. I don’t remember this at all, but he was very shaken up about it. Something about the lake having dangerous stuff in it that caused the wound to become infected and had almost killed me. 

He stopped throwing rocks into that lake, and I never tried to sneak up on him again. He also would lead me to a quiet and dark place if the pains ever got too bad. If there was none nearby he would pull me into a hug and cover my ears to block out the noise. I think he was guilty about that. I never blamed him though. It was an accident, and you can’t really get mad about accidents.

  
  


I miss him, Journal. I’d give anything to have him at my back again. Him  _ and  _ Dez. But you can’t resurrect the dead, and you can’t change the past, no matter how hard you try...  


I’m gonna lay back down. My head is starting to hurt again. Goodnight Journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two are honestly so relaxing to write.
> 
> Also maybe the next Bonus will be about Dez and Zy? Maybe it'll be about all three of them during day to day life or how they'd hang out after jobs? Or maybe it'll be about Zy's old name because oh yeah he wasn't "Zylas Doraith" to them he was "Veris Khalin."
> 
> I dunno.


	20. Entry Eighteen - I’m tired.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! This one is.... Depressing, to say the least!
> 
> The next few chapters are going to either be like this one or worse, so buckle up. I'll also be writing in Elvish (Quenya, to be specific) and Undercommon for some bits, so I'll be providing translations in the End Notes as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicidal idealization, mentions of starvation, injury, fire, and being hunted.
> 
> Summary and translations in the End Notes.

I’m starting to wish I just went to a work house to pay my bounty, rather than going on this quest. 

I’m going home, Journal. I’m not ready, but it’s the only safe place I know to go. Luga… Luga was  _ burnt to the ground _ because of me. Because people are after me. I don’t know if they’re with Cypress, or if they’re bounty hunters, or what, but they attacked everyone. Jester… He’s hurt bad. He can’t walk, I think they broke his back or something. The woman of that group stabbed him to ribbons, too. Akira was tossed around like a rag-doll. The  strongest of our group , Journal. Their dragon— _ yes, a dragon _ . He can apparently transform into an Orc as well—picked up our powerhouse and tossed him aside like he was no threat. He was in his Orcish form when he decided it would be a good idea to break Jester’s back and tackle me to the ground so he could punch my face in. Jason was attacked before we were even faced with this other group. That thing that was hovering over him… It was a shadow monster. The same one that gleefully tortured me in my dream.

I was powerless to stop it. Had Akira come even a second later I think that thing may have sucked out Jason’s soul and then come to me to finish the job it started so many weeks ago. But no. Akira came in, Sun Blade in hand, and saved us. I had to find Jester to make sure he hadn’t been attacked either, but he was just fine, by that point, at least… With Jason comatose and no way to know where we needed to go, I stepped up to lead the way to Laeiða. I know, I know. It’s stupid. But I didn’t know what else to do! We were on our way when… Well when we were attacked by those people.

They were after  _ me. _ I think… I think I need to just go, Journal. These people don’t deserve the strife I’m bringing them. They don’t deserve the pain that should sit squarely on my shoulders and mine alone. They’re  _ heroes _ Journal. Not like me. Had they met me a few years earlier they wouldn’t have spared me a second glance. Hell, Jason might’ve attacked me, or at the very least spit at me. I wouldn’t have been much better. Probably bumped into them, _ “Oh no’s”  _ and  _ “I’m sorry’s” _ abound, and they wouldn’t notice until I was gone that they no longer had their coin purses, and maybe Jester’s dagger would have gone missing as well. Who knows? Or maybe Dez and I would have done “ _ Run.” _ A disguise, her running from some unseen threat, and slamming into someone. Akira, maybe. I slip by, apologize to them, nab something of Jason’s, and call for her to  _ “please wait! It’s alright!” _ or  _ “wait up, don’t leave me behind Lilly!” _

Lilly. That was a common name of hers. Dunno why, but I never really needed to know. It worked for our purposes. Mine was Paddock. Paddock Whitlaw. Elias was the odd one out. He never stuck to one name. I guess he was smarter than us in that regard, seeing as there’s now a bounty out for a wood elf named Paddy and a human named Lilly. Whoops.

I don’t think it’s safe for me to go home. I know it’s not. But we’re almost there, and if I remember correctly, Anna is a doctor. Or at least, someone who knows something of healing. We might be able to treat Jester there. He gets healed, they set off, I say my goodbyes to them, and they save the world. I’ll hear about them a little later, spoken of in hushed and reverent tones. Or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll be dead by then. Journal, you don’t think me mad, do you? For believing that I might not live to see next year? I just… Don’t think it’s safe for anyone that I walk the earth. I’m bringing misfortune with me wherever I go.

Maybe after they leave Laeiða I’ll tell my parents that I’m going to follow them. That I’m going to be a hero. I’ll set off in the same direction they went, and when I’m out of sight I’ll turn from their path and vanish. Maybe I’ll get torn to shreds by a monster in the Wastelands. That makes sense, right? Or maybe they’ll do what that one from the forest did, and walk away. If that happens… I guess the Watcher will get to see elven guts. They’ll look the same as other races. Just with darker blood and a shakier cut. Or maybe a regular wolf will maul me. Or maybe I’ll just starve. Starvation is an old friend, you know. We spent many nights together, for four long years.

Or maybe I won’t die. Maybe the Watcher will stop me, or some other god, or just my own cowardice. My own primal desire to live that seems to infect everything I do. Maybe I’ll lose my mind somewhere in the wilderness, and be found years later, a raving lunatic unworthy of even a second glance, much less the title “Hero,” that may be bestowed upon me if I continue on with this group, and actually live to tell the tale. 

More likely though, I’ll be hunted down by Cypress or our attackers, and they’ll leave so little of me that I’ll never be found. I don’t know that I’ll have the fire left in me to fight them. They’ll be removing a scourge from Alamora. A  _ khal _ mark on history. I’ll die a wanted man, alone and empty. Just like they told me I would. Is it sad to say that I’m resigned to my fate already? I just hope Pango doesn’t find me. It would probably break his little heart. Well… He wouldn’t have any reason to go looking now would he? He’d be heralded as the hero I say he is and he’ll become a Paladin. Berk would probably keep him busy, and I doubt he’d want to look for someone that lured danger to him in the first place… 

Journal, I’m tired. Gods, I feel like crying… I can’t though. Not now. Not until I’m alone…

I’m going to bed. We have a long day ahead of us. Goodnight Journal. Hopefully I’ll have the presence of mind to be coherent when I write to you next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Translations—  
> Laeiða: Zylas's home town. It's derived from an Old Elvish word meaning "Garden."  
> khal: Undercommon word for "dark."
> 
> —Summary—  
> Zylas is leading the group to his home after they were attacked in Luga and the city was burnt down. Their guide and magical powerhouse, a man named Jason, was incapacitated before the fight, so they all nearly died and had no idea where to go. Zylas says he's afraid of returning home and that he thinks he's bringing misfortune upon the group because the people who attacked them were looking for him. He contemplates leaving but doesn't conclusively say one way or the other what he's going to do.


	21. Entry Nineteen - Old wounds ache more than new ones hurt.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow! More sad stuff! Fun!
> 
> —Trigger Warnings!—  
> Mentions of torture, eye trauma, loss of limbs, and moral crises.
> 
> (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my DM who helped me come up with the name for this chapter!

Journal, at what point does one become evil? What is the criteria to become irredeemably,  _ irreparably _ broken? Is it murder? What if you regret it? I didn’t kill a man today, but I was so,  _ so _ close. He drove his head onto my blade like a coward. I don’t feel any remorse for not pulling away when I felt him surge forward. All he did was cause pain, from the moment he came into existence to the moment he left it… He left it forcing me to lean on the leg he shot. I longed to make him hurt. To maim him. And I was disappointed that I could not spread my violence to someone else. 

Cleo Stone. He had an obsession with going for my eyes. I guess because they were so different to his. Mostly white, with only a tiny hint of green. He thought they were monstrous eyes. I wanted to steal his. Rend them from his skull and take in his screams. I couldn’t though.

Because Deward Dunwich killed him.

Am I doomed to be called a monster my whole life? Am I really one? I don’t know. The kids here thought I was evil,  _ that _ I do know. Did the people I stole from consider me evil as well? The cloaked figure in the night out to steal your pearls, and slit your throat the next chance he gets… Am I that to them? Evil, to them? Let me ask you this Journal. Was I evil when I shook Cypress’s hand at thirteen? When I first kissed Desdemona at fourteen? When I sat by Elias’s bedside at eleven, ensuring he lived to see the sunrise? Was I evil when I said goodnight to my mother and father at age ten, then slipped out to watch the stars? Am I evil because I wanted the man who made my childhood a living hell to feel a modicum of my pain? Are the men who stood by and watched me do it evil as well? Is Jester evil? He’s apparently a killer. 

But I was the one inflicting needless harm on a man who could not fight back. He no longer had hands, after all, courtesy of Jester’s quick swords. Am I the evil one, when  _ he _ held me down and brought rock after stick after fist down onto my already beaten body? Am I the irredeemable one when  _ he _ struck at my head, knowing full well I had an injury that was just barely beginning to heal, and could kill me at any moment? Journal, am I truly the one that is so despicable when  **_he_ ** is the one who brought down the order to  **_kill those I loved!?_ **

Grieving parents. A widow, mourning the death of her only son. A woman who only wanted to do good and help those who needed it. A man who just wanted to tend his garden. A defenseless child, barely able to walk in the sunlight. These are only  _ some _ of his victims, Journal. The people— **_his people_ ** —that cause pain need to be stopped. I’m starting to think the only way that will happen is by a blade in their guts… 

Gods… I sound like Kaya… I can’t bring myself to be disturbed though. Not right now. Not when Jason is in a heap on the street because of what he did. Pango is gone. He handed him off to some “pretty elf lady” and didn’t think twice. He’s lucky I didn’t gut him right then and there. I wanted to.  _ Gods I wanted to. _ But I was pinned by guards before I could.

I hate to write it out, but I’m starting to think Kaya may be right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our last session got pretty dark. Zy spilled some backstory stuff to Jester, Jester went out to pay Deward a visit, they got jumped, Jester got stabbed, and then Zy tortured Deward in the street and tried to steal his eyes because he couldn't get Cleo's. So um... Yeah. This story is "Mature" for a reason!


	22. Bonus Entry #3 - My dearest love. Ninya melissë melda.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zylas reflects on Desdemona and their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dez is best girl and no one can convince me otherwise.
> 
> Also, Zylas definitely speaks a bastard version of Quenyan which makes him sound mad all the time, when really he just speaks with a lot of slang and improper grammar.  
> Think something similar to a Mishima accent in Japanese for context.  
> (Instead of saying, the full "Hayaku kaette kitanoka!, it would be more like "Hyaa! Kyatte kittaka!" Zy would be full on in the Mishima-ben, slang and all lol)

Desdemona Siannondel. Oftentimes “Wren.” Occasionally “Lilly.” “ _ Ninya russa-Aini”  _ as well, though that name stayed between us. “My red-haired Angel.” Aside from Elias she was my best friend. 

“A riot personified,” as Cypress loved to say. She was a firestarter, literally and metaphorically. She taught me all the magic I know. She’s been on my mind so much recently… And now with me being so near where she died… It hurts. But I don’t want to linger on that. I want to remember and document her as she was while she shone at her brightest, not while her light burned out.

We hated each other when we first met. Can you believe that, Journal? We’re strange when we’re young… I saw her as an obstacle I had to overcome to gain the position of Nightingale, and she thought I was a threat to her position as Wren. Which is absolutely unfounded mind you. She was the best in the business, and had a spot in Cypress’s heart, there was absolutely no chance in hell I could’ve taken her place. She snuck up on me so much during those early days that I started sticking to walls so if I thought she was near I could glue my back to a wall and make sure she wasn’t readying herself to pounce on me and noogie me into submission. She was taller than me when we were kids and she took full advantage of that fact. Whether it was hiding my daggers on high shelves or stealing my spellbook and dangling it above my head, she did everything she could to annoy me. Naturally this just made me despise her more, but that mindset changed very quickly one night.

We’d been sent on a job—it was right after my fourteenth birthday, actually. I’m starting to think my birthday is cursed—to nab some old artifact or something that a less-than-noble collector was paying Cypress actual  _ bags _ of money for and we had been promised a lovely cut. We were all practically vibrating out of our boots to go, I mean, all that  _ money! _ Just for something some dead guy held for five minutes! 

Oh how excitable kids are…

We went out and in the middle of Dez disabling the traps around the windows, we heard a shout. Those are, generally speaking,  _ not a good thing to hear when you’re hanging halfway in the window of a  _ _ tower. _ Elias had been keeping watch on the ground and started frantically whistling our  _ “We need to get the hell away now or else we’ll be caught!” _ song. However, it quickly became the call for  _ “Danger is imminent! Run!”  _ And Dez and I knew we were screwed. Dangling however many feet in the air, no way out except down into the now rapidly filling courtyard into the swords of waiting guards, or into the tower and facing a possibly much stronger force of guards that would most definitely skewer us. Dez was just starting the  _ “We need your help, get over here!” _ call for Elias when all of the air rushed out of her lungs. Her body tensed, her eyes went wide, and she curled in on herself (well, as much as she could, clinging to a wall three stories up with pitons on her hands.) I saw something dark hit the wall in front of her. A half second later, something glinted in the moonlight, jutting out into the space between us. An intrusive and bright obelisk in the darkness. 

She didn’t scream. She didn’t have the breath in her lungs to do so. Her grip on the pitons loosened as a shout of triumph echoed from below us. She fell away from the wall, and I saw the man who had shot her. A human. I don’t know how he even saw us. The window was open and Dez was falling and Elias was vaulting over the wall, heedless of the guards now swarming the area, to catch her. I was so close to getting the artifact. I cast Mage Hand as a volley of arrows whizzed by me. One skimmed my shoulder and ricocheted off the wall as the stupid artifact—a book, of all things—flew into my hands, and I launched myself off the wall and into a three-story freefall. Elias’s arm hooked around my torso before I hit the ground, and we were flying. Not literally, of course. Dez was the only one who could cast that spell and she was thrown over Elias’s shoulder, seemingly unresponsive. Elias was talking to me, I don’t remember what he was saying. Something about putting me down I assume since my legs were moving before my feet touched the ground, and when they did I was running alongside him.

We ended up not going to the base until morning. Desdemona was bleeding a scary amount. It had soaked Elias’s shoulder and was dripping down his arm when he set her down in our little lake-side hideout. Elias was telling me to take the arrow out, but I knew that wasn’t a good idea. It was stuck through her side, between two ribs. I don’t know how it hadn’t ripped through her skin from all the jostling of being carried by a sprinting guy. We had no idea if it had punched through her lungs, and I didn’t want to risk anything. But we couldn’t lay her down with an arrow jutting out of her, so I told Elias to snap off the bullet point and end, just in front of the fletching so it was just the middle of the shaft plugging the hole. I ended up with the unpleasant job of holding her down, because Gods know it wasn’t going to feel good, even if we tried to be careful. 

She was unconscious up until Elias grabbed the arrowhead and snapped it off. Gods it was horrible… We ended up having to stuff one of my gloves in her mouth so no one nearby thought there was a murder going on. She barely had it in her afterward to send a message to Cypress (she was going to teach me that spell, but we never got the chance due to… unfortunate circumstances) and informed him that we weren’t coming home for the night. 

Elias was exhausted from carrying both Dez and I, and I assume he was also crashing from the adrenaline, so I took watch first. Or at least, that’s what I told him. Pureblooded elves don’t need as much rest as others, so I was just going to stay up all night, only trancing about four hours before the sun rose. Desdemona drifted in and out of consciousness between Elias and I. It was… painful, to hear her crying. At about one hour past midnight, I heard her take a sharp breath in. I looked behind me to see her moving, trying to reach for my back. 

“ _Vá! Mala-intyë, hanya!_?” I asked as she grasped at the air between us. Her hand wavered. I thought it was because I sounded angry to her, but her hand flew to her mouth and she… Started giggling. Well, giggling is putting it nicely. She moreso started laughing, then immediately groaned and clutched her pant leg in pain. I asked her what she thought was so funny, because the wording of my statement genuinely hadn’t crossed my mind at all. She told me I had called her _“intyë”._ _“Intyë”_ is only used for someone you’re close to. It hadn’t crossed my mind at all to call her _“imlë”_ at that moment like I had since I had known her. Gods I’m sure I could have combusted from embarrassment at that moment. I was sputtering, trying to backtrack and say I didn’t mean it! It was a slip of the tongue, I swear! _“Nancar-tya quetta-tye!”_ she’d said. Even in pain, her smile lit up the room… 

She tried to pull me to her and I didn’t have it in me to stay sitting where I was. She complained that her cloak wasn’t a good pillow and that I would be a better one. I tried to say no, to get out of the situation before I burst into flames from embarrassment, but she just said “If I am  _ ‘tye,’ _ it should be no problem.” I couldn’t argue with that, especially because she was using my own words against me. She lay with her head in my lap the rest of the night.

We took her back to the hideout the next morning along with the book. She was healed and we were all paid in full. Cypress doesn’t speak Elvish, so I don’t think he picked up on the change right away. We stopped being cold and formal. We spoke like friends. Elias knew right away, and never said anything about it outright, but he began making excuses to leave us alone while giving me very pointed, knowing looks. 

Our stupid rivalry is what started our strange tradition of fighting, and that fighting is what later brought us together as a couple. If Dez pissed me off enough I would throw something small at her, a bead, a pebble, a lockpick, a wad of paper, once I smacked her with an ink covered quill because she was pestering me while I was transcribing a spell. She didn’t take kindly to me splattering ink all over her shirt and pants so she grabbed me by my cloak and to a small clearing just outside of the entrance. 

I thought I was going to easily sweep the floor with her. Maybe a swift kick to her ankle to take her down and a boot placed on her chest to keep her down until she surrendered. Oh how wrong I was. She danced around me, darting into my space to land quick but surprisingly painful blows to my sternum, my jaw, my gut, my chest, again and again and again. She didn’t give me a break to breathe, much less fight back. She was a tornado of red hair and pain. 

I guess Dez was getting bored with beating me into a pulp while I couldn’t do anything other than gasp for breath and belatedly put up my hands after she had already stuck me. She landed a swift palm-strike, (she didn’t punch me, she  _ never _ punched me. I guess that’s just how she fought? All her hits were either open-palm strikes or jabs with her fingertips or knuckles) swiping across my jaw and sending my head spinning, knocking me flat on my ass in the dirt. She stood over me and stomped a boot into my ribs. “Throw ink at me again, and I’ll do much worse,” she’d said. 

So naturally I did it again to be a little shit-starter, and got solidly pounded into the ground,  _ again _ . Though I lasted a little longer that time. I was able to duck out of the way of her first few blows, but she wore me down quickly. I was continuously pummeled into the dirt, every time we fought. The first time I was well and truly hung up on a spell I had been trying to learn, I threw down my quill and stormed off in the middle of Desdemona trying to speak to me. I ended up sitting in the same little arena she and I had first fought in, trying to pick a lock to keep my mind busy. I couldn’t do it because my hands were stiff from writing. Frustration mounted to a boiling point and I chucked the lock as hard as I could away from me. Dez materialized out of the grass, lock in hand, and walked up to me. She dropped the lock at my feet and held out her hands to me. I took them and she pulled me to my feet. She paused for a moment as if thinking about something, and then reeled back and shoved me as hard as she could! I hardly kept my feet under me. Naturally I tried asking her what the hell her problem was, only for her to seemingly aparate into my personal space and shove me again. First the spell, then the lock, and now her wordlessly trying to shove me down had me seeing red. I was moving before I could think, and by the time I had come back to myself, she was a few feet away cradling her face and my knuckles were throbbing. 

I felt my entire body run cold with shock, which quickly became abject horror, as it sunk in that my hand was curled into a fist. I had just punched her. I started to panic, running to her as I listed apologies in Common, Elvish, and even some Primordial. I drew her up to face me, seeing the bruise already blooming at the bottom of her cheek. I expected her to shove me again. Hit me. Run to Cypress and demand I be “dealt with” for attacking her, or maybe just do it herself, right then and there. But she didn’t. Instead… she grinned. She looked like a madwoman; a wild look in her eyes as the bruise on her face deepened with each passing second. I could barely register what was happening as she grabbed my face and kissed me roughly. She drew back as quickly as she approached and said, somewhat breathlessly, “So you grew a spine!” 

… How was I supposed to respond to that!? I barely know the words now, and I  _ certainly _ didn’t have them then. Abruptly, she took a few steps back and sank gracefully into a fighting stance. All I could do was stare in shock as she swept my feet out and pounced on me, landing with a knee in my ribs and a hand curled in the neck of my shirt. All I could think in that moment was “What the actual  _ hell _ is happening!?” When it was obvious to her that I wasn’t going to fight back at all, she got off me and reached out to help me up again. I took her hand automatically and the feeling of her pulling me to my feet jolted me back to my senses. 

Her hand in mine was too much. I jerked away and faced her. I don’t remember exactly what I asked her but she just laughed at me and batted a hand at me, as if that was an answer in  _ any _ way! Which it very much was not, by the way!—I have no idea why she kissed me. We weren’t even dating at that point! Adrenaline, maybe? Hell, I  _ still _ don’t know. I asked her once and she just shrugged—She jammed a finger into my chest and proclaimed her victory over me, “Again! You’ll never beat me at this rate Songbird!” and then she just left! Left me there in that little clearing with a lock, several new bruises, and the realization that she just casually decided to steal my first kiss. I stayed sitting there for quite a while.

The sun had set by the time I thought to go home. Elias was waiting for me by a tree just outside town so I didn’t have to go through town alone. We didn’t go home for quite a while though. Elias had leaned against the tree and simply said, “Something happened. Tell me.” I took that opportunity to get my thoughts in order as I spilled them to him. After which, he patted my shoulder sympathetically and walked me, still somewhat shocked, home. I said goodnight to my parents unusually early (I don’t remember what lie I told them, maybe that I’d tired myself out playing or something and that I wanted more rest) and waited for two long hours until I heard them go to bed. Once I was sure they wouldn’t wake, I slipped out my window and ran all the way back to Headquarters.

Desdemona was sitting under the stars when I reached the base. I demanded what the hell she’d thought she was doing, kissing me out of the blue like that, and she just shrugged and said “I wanted to.” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world to her! I don’t think I’ll ever get that viewpoint, honestly. I sat down beside her to watch the stars because, well, what else was I supposed to do? Ask that and then run all the way back home? Nope. Some time when the moon had passed its peak in the sky, Dez laid her head on my shoulder. I swear it felt like I ate an entire swarm of butterflies. I don’t know how long it took me to work up the courage to wrap my arm around her, but when I did she cuddled up to me like it was nothing. I wanted to stay like that forever, but the sun was starting to rise and I had to go back home before my parents had noticed I was gone. 

When I told her I had to leave, she didn’t reply. She just moved away to let me go. I reached to help her up, and when she stood I didn’t want to let her hand fall away. My stomach churned with anxiety as I looked at her and timidly asked if I could kiss her before I left. "Of course, Veris…” She'd said, again, like it was incredibly obvious. Her eyes shone with a quiet happiness in the moonlight.

I got two kisses there in that clearing, and I smiled like an oaf all the way home. What I wouldn’t give to kiss her, just one last time… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Translations—  
> Vá! Mala-intyë, hanya!?: Don't! You'll hurt yourself, don't you understand!?  
> Nancar-tya quetta-tye!: You can't take back what you said!  
> Imlë: You, formal suffix. Used for acquaintances and basically everyone else you don't call "intyë"  
> Intyë: You, informal suffix. Used for close friends and family.  
> Tye: You, informal pronoun. Used for close friends and family.


	23. Entry Twenty - A Corpse Walks Again and Her Name is Desdemona.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zylas is getting kill happy and I f e a r.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for general Zylas feelings about sharp objects and violence and also Desdemona is here! They still haven't been able to talk! It's been so long DM! Let them speak!
> 
> (jkjk you're doing great, love.)

Journal I don’t know whether to laugh or cry… 

Dez is alive. Desdemona is alive, Pango is gone, I killed a man maybe four hours ago, and we defeated the dragon that broke Jester’s back… I need a drink. And maybe whatever substances Cypress used to smuggle to corrupt nobles for a quick high. Because good Gods today is just… too much. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so, so happy my  _ Aini _ is still alive. I’m elated! But… She’s been giving me strange looks. I don’t… Journal have I really changed that much? I don’t think I have but… Well… a younger me would never have killed Deward, would he?

I almost killed the dragon too. Jester stopped me. I was so close. So close to getting him out of our hair! But no… Jester wanted him alive for some reason and… Well… He fought Deward on my behalf, so I couldn’t just flagrantly go against his wishes like that. Gods, am I becoming a monster? Since coming home I’ve been… Worse. Desdemona looked scared of me at one point.  _ Scared, _ Journal. Like she thought I was going to hurt her. I would never even dream of it! I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m scared that I’m becoming something like Cypress. Angry. Hateful. Gods know I wanted to kill Jason when I found out he let Pango be taken! I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t even feel in control of myself half the time! Dez said we needed to talk but… Fuck. I’ve been avoiding it. How horrible is that Journal? Avoiding the love of your life that you just got back because you can’t handle a tough conversation. 

I’m a disaster. I don’t want to become that same monster Cypress is but I feel like I can’t help it. I don’t know what to do or how to stop this. The violence it… I don’t want to write it. No… It’s that I don’t want to acknowledge it… But if need be I can just toss you into fire or melt you away with acid.

Am I safe with you Journal? I think I am. I hope I am because if I am not then there is nowhere and no one I will ever be safe with again. … It felt like you just got warmer in my hands Journal. That’s impossible, I know but… Fine. I’ll say it.

The violence feels  _ good. _ It gives me control that I have not had since before the Fall of the Tree, as it were. Writing that out makes me feel sick but it makes too much sense. Why else would I have wanted to split open Vatyr’s skin or bury my knife in an innocent man’s stomach? Why else would I want to kill? 

Why else would I try to scratch their marks from my skin, rather than search to remove them with magic, so nothing remains of their power over me…? Because I’m becoming a monster. I’m taking sick pleasure in these things. Their fear, their pain,  _ all _ the pain. It’s becoming a sustenance to this creature that’s overtaking me. I don’t think I can stop or contain it. Not anymore. When Jester stopped me I… I wanted to plant my dagger in his eye. When Jason came back I wanted to take my blade and stick it between his ribs. I wanted to feel his blood on my hands, not just soaking through thick gloves. “Would it be hot?” “Would he scream?” “Would he even have the breath to make noise at all?” All questions that shot through my head when that idea came to light in my mind. Is this me? Is it the Watcher? Something else? Absolutely nothing? I don’t know. 

Maybe I should just leave. I’m putting everyone in danger. But… The thought of leaving Desdemona again makes my chest ache so strongly it makes me sick. I don’t want to say goodbye again. If I did I would break even more than I already am.

I think… If I had to say goodbye, I think I might just shatter.

  
I need to stop. My hands are shaking so bad I can hardly write and I’m tearing up… I don’t know when I’ll write to you next Journal. I’m sorry. It’s just… all too much. Even  _ you’re  _ not helping me think clearly anymore.


	24. Entry Twenty-One - I’m Lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Spurt from Critical Role voice* "ELEVEN DAYS!"
> 
> I was with family for eleven days and was unable to write since I didn't have access to my computer. Also, we're nearing the end of act one of our little play! 
> 
> More explanation is in the End Notes!

I don’t know what I’m doing.

Well… I mean, I know what I’m  _ supposed _ to be doing. I’m supposed to be resting. But I just… Can’t. Dez and I talked about, well, everything. I told her all I could, from my imprisonment, to working for the King, to why I left. Told her about Jester, Akira, Jason, and Pango. I couldn’t say much about the Paladin. I barely knew her. 

I’m just… exhausted. I didn’t expect it to be so hard to just  _ talk to her _ , you know? Well, you wouldn’t know, you’re a book. I spoke with Kaya again, and I ended up joining her to get Pango back. But he didn’t take kindly to me being an ally to her. I never thought a penguin staring at me with fear and disappointment would make my heart twist but here we are.

Here we are, Journal.

Sitting under a rock spying on a demon and my girlfriend talking about magic, and struggling to get even a second of rest. I envy your lack of sentience Journal. You don’t need to eat, sleep, breathe, any of it. You just get to simply exist. You don’t have time for moral quandaries such as “Am I doing the right thing?” Or “What even am I really doing at all?” You just have to sit in my bag and wait for me to bring you out into the sun or moon or candlelight and then wait for the ink to dry. You go back into the bag, and you stop caring about the words inside you. You don’t have the capacity to care that you hold my fate within you. My worst fears. Strangest dreams. Deepest secrets. I’m trusting you to keep them safe for me, because the gods know that the people around me aren’t trustworthy at all.

Journal… I have a sneaking suspicion that I may die soon. I know that sounds strange, after all, all attempts at harming me or killing me are stopped by the Watcher—speaking of, It’s crawling under my skin right now. Hello Watcher, I know you’re creeping in to watch me write, you aren’t subtle—and it seems like monsters have no interest in me at all. 

But… I don’t know. Maybe it’s the paranoia coming back to bite me, or maybe it’s some “God-sent” message, or maybe I’m wrong or maybe I’m right. I don’t know anymore. I mean, I know what’s right and wrong, I just don’t know… How to say it? I don’t know if I’m on the side that will give me the best outcome. I couldn’t give less of a shit about everyone else—I just want Desdemona and Pango to be okay. But they both stand on completely opposite sides of my life and of what I… I don’t know. “Think is okay” I guess. 

Dez is my last connection to my past. She’s my connection to the wild and chaos that was squashed when I was imprisoned. But Pango is all about order and goodness. Though I guess I don’t really need to worry about him, now do I? He’s been taken by the Paladins. I think the next time he sees me I’ll either be in chains again or on a pyre or war criminals.

Good Gods am I a war criminal? I guess…

Shit.

Shit to _two_ things. That revelation, and the fact that Kaya is fucking screaming bloody murder for somethi—

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_Jason._ She found out he was murdered. Fuck. I need to go, I’m so sorry Journal, I’ll write again soon if I’m not dead. 

If I am and this Journal is found, refer to page one on what to do with my body if it hasn’t been incinerated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zylas has officially fallen to the dark side and is now working with Kaya, Kaya was speaking to Desdemona (played by me as an NPC) and found out that our party wizard, who is also her foster father, was murdered "yesterday" (in-game time). Kaya is now abandoning her quest to get revenge and Zylas is gonna do... Something. (My DM reads these and he must not know what I'm planning!)


	25. Entry Twenty-Two - Final Entry.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final entry of Zylas's Journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus Act One of our campaign comes to a close!
> 
> I will be starting another Journal once Act Two gets into full swing and Zylas is able to write again!

Hey Journal. A lot has happened since I last was with you. I hope I have enough pages left for all this…

Where did I last leave off? . . . . . . . 

Oh, right. Kaya.

Well, I neglected to mention in my last entry that she is host to some… Dreadful powers, for lack of better words. They decided to pop in a bit before I wrote that entry to try interrogating me on information about the Watcher. Kaya and I were both beholden to It, you see. Apparently these things were out to get information related to It, and Kaya had proved impressively tight-lipped with the information they were seeking, so they turned to me. Tried intimidating me into telling them everything. It didn’t work, of course. I doubt the Watcher would let me live if I couldn’t keep a secret or two. But then the events I previously told you about took place, Kaya finding out about Jason and whatnot, and I set out to put my plan into motion. You see, I was sure those monster-things would probably try to kill me (and if not them, it would be Kaya or any number of her minions) and I did what I do best.

I ran. 

And in my running I picked up a disguise and a cat. Strange combination, sure, but it worked. My cat isn’t necessarily a real cat. She’s my familiar and her name is Evi and I  _ swear _ she flirts with Dez’s hawk familiar (Glim is his name) when we aren’t looking. But anyway, back to the topic. My plan was to rat Kaya’s moment of weakness out to the King so he would smash through her confused forces and sweep the floor with them, leaving her entirely defenseless against an army riding the high of a successful massacre. And once I told him I would leave with Dez in tow and we would return to Kaya’s troops to tell them that the King’s army had been attacked en route and would be an easy fight. They would expect it to be a breeze, only to be met with an army showing nary a hint of pain. Confusion would spread, and in the chaos they would be demolished. 

That… didn’t go according to plan whatsoever.

First issue. The King had not been informed of Jason’s death, which I’m frankly confused by, since he seemed aware of my… Stint with Kaya. But the second issue was much more pressing. The Paladins didn’t let me leave. Without being able to leave the throne room I wouldn’t be able to enact the second part of my plan, so everything I had been thinking to do was frozen in its tracks. And that wasn’t even the worst part. What was though, made me lightheaded when I was told. Laeida had been invaded. 

Akira came crashing—quite literally  _ crashing _ , he broke the doors—into the throne room screaming that the city had been invaded and that the army was on his tail. It shouldn’t have been possible.  _ “Kaya was gone, so who could have been leading them?” _ I’d thought. Oh how stupid I am. How stupid I was to let someone slip through the cracks of my fingers, all those weeks ago. I should have killed her when I had the chance. Dove forward and finished the job Jester started; entirely eviscerated her to the point that no amount of healing fire could have sealed her organs inside. I should have fired my crossbow and lodged a bolt between her blank, white eyes. Or sent acid flying her way in a large net so she couldn’t have avoided it. So she melted and bubbled like many before her. Or I could have sent a bolt through her back as she ran from us in mortal terror.

But I did none of those things. And all would pay dearly for my inaction. But she was not alone. There was another beside her that had escaped my ire. Who was so close to being ended like his brethren. Or… maybe not like them. Maybe it would have been a slaughter more brutal than the ones that ended his species. I’m not sure, I was not in my right mind when we had fought. I  _ had _ just killed a man, after all. The blind dragon Arodose stepped into the throne room, flanking my target of interest along with the woman with blank eyes. Standing tall between them was Kaya. She seemed entirely too… happy. Like she was delighting in the chaos her troops were wreaking below us. 

Now, at this point I had just informed the King that I was returning to fight for him in exchange for no prison time for me and Desdemona. So naturally, I immediately acted like I was over the moon at Kaya’s arrival. I faked that the King’s men had taken me prisoner and that the Watcher had been ignoring my desperate pleads for help. I wasn’t lying when I told her It had ignored me before, though I don’t think she believed me. Akira threw a wrench the size of Arodose in my plan though. He began ranting and raving about Kaya and the Nine of the Underworld and how he was going to kill the Nine but save Kaya and I just… I couldn’t follow it. He sounded madder than Jester. 

Akira mentioned how Jason had given him some spell to save her, and Kaya started screaming. Screaming and raving about how Jason never cared for her and how he’s the reason she went on a genocidal spree in the first place and that all Jason wanted was to see her dead. It was… Hard to follow, even for me. 

Kaya tried to send Arodose to deal with him, but the second Akira drew his blade—the one of Angelic make—Kaya instantly called Arodose back to her. Her demeanor shifted so drastically when she saw it. She hid behind the Blank Eyed woman like a child faced with a monster, and I saw my opportunity. I slipped in to stand beside her. Her attention was devoted to the Sun Blade, so much so that she never even saw my dagger.

At least, that’s what I thought when I tried to stab her in the back. I’m not sure how she realized what I was doing, maybe she heard the blade scrape it’s sheath? Maybe she felt me shifting behind her? I have no clue. 

What I do know is that her boots are very painful. I know this because she decided my chest would make an  _ incredible _ stepping stone. Akira tried to strike while she was fixated on me but just before his blade struck her, darkness consumed us. Unnatural fire ringed the small area that was to be our battlefield. All of her weight was held by her right leg and despite her strange stance, she easily parried and countered all of Akira’s strikes. Her one-track mind was her downfall though, quite literally. She didn’t notice my wiggling and shifting until it was too late. I kicked out at her knee. Granted the strike didn’t connect as intended, but hey! I still got her to fall! It counts, dang it!

What happens next, Journal, I am still somewhat in disbelief of.

Nine sets of eyes loomed out of the darkness behind Kaya. Akira was downed by the same power that struck him down when we first met our enemy in the Foxwood. Journal, I’m going to be honest. I was panicking. My fingers were numb. My mind was somehow racing and blank all at once. I think I started to shake at that moment as well, though I didn’t have the bodily awareness to really realize it until several minutes later when the tremors subsided. I had no idea what to do. So, I did what I do best—or rather, what I do  _ second best _ —I started to talk. I blabbed as my disjointed thoughts coalesced into a plan. Not a good one, hell, I didn’t even think it would work as I was doing it! But it was a plan nonetheless and I had to try.

My spellcasting focus was in my right pocket. My dagger was in my left hand. I could theoretically do somatic components of a spell with my dagger in hand, but I had never tried it before.

I swung my right hand wildly to emphasize my comment about my lowly status as a common thief. One specific swing with a trembling, weak hand, and my plan was in motion. My focus was caught between my fingers, and I forced my left fingers to dance over the hilt of my dagger. My fingers began to buzz as arcane energy flooded my veins. Another wild swing, this time backwards to hide the shining object in my hand and to ready myself. A flick of my left wrist, disguised as a punctuation to some bullshit question I had asked. The magic surged through my body. It darted from my left hand. It wrapped around my heart, squeezed between my lungs, and shot into my right hand. By the time it reached my chest I was flinging my hand in a wide arc in front of me. It’s threads weakened and for one moment, I thought I was a dead man. I’d had magic fail me before. I would call it, pour everything into the spell, only for it to fizzle and die right after my fingers stopped moving, or when it shot through me, like it was getting lost inside my body.

My blood ran cold.

But the acid flying from my fingertips brought a burning heat with it. Kaya panicked. She flailed to remove her armor and I was moving before I knew what I was doing. I lunged for her stomach, but I missed. Though I can’t imagine having a blade scraping your hip bone and digging into your muscles would have felt much better than what I had originally had in store for her. 

Though I doubt even  _ that _ would have been a blip in her perception compared to what Akira did to her. Just as I withdrew my blade, he ran her cleanly through from behind.

Well… I say “cleanly,” but really it was a messy affair. Turns out her devilish attributes didn’t end at her wicked horns and cherry red skin. Just being  _ close _ to the sword had her tail lashing with anxiety. Being actually pierced by the blade of an angel was more than her fiendish blood could handle. Her body began to crack. Her bones splintered, her blood boiled, and once the cracks reached her horns, she nearly sublimated. All that was left of the Tiefling Warlord Kaya was a powder on the floor and rapidly dying off echoes of her ghastly screams of agony. 

Everything after that point is something of a blur. Dez was gone, as was Arodose. I had told Dez to escape though, so I knew where she was. But Arodose? No clue. Couldn’t entirely bring myself to care, either. The Blank Eyed woman—whose name I later learned is Umavi Anvindir—was hauled away by two of the King’s Paladins. The King decided to slide a dagger into my lungs the moment the door closed behind the Paladins and their new (and likely traumatized) plaything. Metaphorically speaking, of course. If he’d done it literally I doubt I’d be sitting in the hall of his castle writing everything I just did. 

He told me that in lieu of a jail sentence, I was to be his advisor. He said I had a great deal of experience in deception, and a nose for sniffing out liars, so I would be perfect for it. I’ve been given two conditions so far, though. The first is that I am not to leave the city of Olimrath at all. No problem. The second is that I am to refrain from all criminal activity. That… Might be a little harder for me to do. Especially because I’m so keen on nicking pretty jewels like the ones the nobles wear. 

The King also told me that I’m going to be under constant surveillance, which frankly isn’t anything new. I’ve yet to see my new keeper, though I suppose that’s the point? I’m not sure… But anyway… I’m going to either try to hide you, Journal, or I might end up having to burn you… I don’t want to do that though. But it might be safer for the both of us. 

But now, I think I’m going to have to say goodbye, Journal. You’ve kept me company through many nights, and for that I thank you. You’ve held my thoughts, my secrets, and my views. You’ve taken my ramblings on love and held them tightly in your pages. You’ve let me tear you apart to hide my half-crazed nonsense. I’m running out of page space now, so I’m going to say goodbye one last time. I’m going to try to get Evi to hide you somewhere around the city. Maybe after this whole ordeal is over I can get you back. I’ll hang on to you, if that’s the case. And if I can’t, and you fall into the hands of someone else, then hello reader.

If I’m dead, please refer to the first page of this Journal. And if I am not, please return this Journal to me. If I am under the employ of the King, leave this Journal where you found it and do not seek me out. If I am no longer under the employ of the King, please return this Journal to me. I will be going by either Zylas Doraith, or, under special circumstances, Veris Khalin. If you’ve seen this message it means you’ve read through this Journal in its entirety. If that is the case, then hats, hoods, and horns off to you, dear reader. You’ve slogged through months of my life, the good, the bad, the painful, and the loving, and you now know more about me than even my own (possibly) wife. Do be careful with this information. I will know if you are not.

Goodbye.

Signed,

— Zylas Doraith a.k.a. Veris Khalin, Savior of the Highlands, Advisor to King Berk, Representative of the Drow in the Council of Elders, and Thief Extraordinaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to anyone who stuck around to read this far! 
> 
> If you'd like more content I have a small collection of Journal Entries that I'm publishing under the name "Mind the Gaps" (Though do be warned, these entries are much darker than the ones that were contained in this section of Zylas's story.)


End file.
